


Karma Police

by itsalwayssunnyit



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Banter, Caffeine, Case Fic, Corporate Espionage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medicine, Paranoia, Public Display of Affection, Public Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2020-10-02 00:16:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsalwayssunnyit/pseuds/itsalwayssunnyit
Summary: It starts with Adam Jensen buying a doll. As far as corporate espionage goes, this might just be the worst thing they've ever done.Title's from Radiohead's Karma Police, which greatly inspired this story. Tags will be added as the story progresses.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is slow burn, so buckle up. And English is not my mother language, so let me know if you see anything weird out there, yeah?

The copper-colored bell above the toy store’s glass door makes a merry little sound as a man enters, his feet light and a scowl behind the shades that cover his eyes. Behind the counter, the young cashier, a girl that can’t be older than 19, does a double-take.

Wh- Are those glasses, what, _attached_ to his face?

Her family taught her, however, that it’s not polite to stare, so she does her best to hide her confusion with a gleeful, “Good morning, sir! How can I help you?”

“I’m just browsing,” he tells her before heading into the first aisle to his right.

He doesn’t sound very happy for someone who is surrounded by board games and action figures, so the girl gets out from behind the counter to offer an uncomfortable, “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

He ends up buying a doll, big and innocent blue eyes and a round pink-cheeked face, eyelashes made out of delicate polymers that look so, so real. She doesn’t do anything special, though. The doll. There are no buttons to push, no tiny voice asking for food or professing love. No. This guy is old-school.

“Is it for your daughter?” the girl once again tries to engage him as she’s ringing him up.

He doesn’t look up from the doll when he replies, “No.”

The cashier doesn’t even bother offering him a bag after that.

-x-

Adam Jensen will never get used to having so many people staring at him. He can’t remember ever receiving this much attention before he was augmented. Not that he isn’t an attractive man, but the looks he gets now aren’t exactly flattering. The doll in his hands doesn’t help his case either.

“Are we playing house today?” someone calls out as soon as arrives at work. Adam sighs, slows down but doesn’t stop walking. Whoever has time for jokes has time to follow him up the escalator.

Damn it — he almost made it to Pritchard’s office without having to talk to anyone. He has a ‘hey, fuck you’ on the tip of his tongue before he realizes the person he’s talking to is just Preston, one of their security staff. And no matter what a crappy week Adam’s been having, being an asshole to your subordinates is just not good practice.

“This is for someone else, I’m afraid,” Adam ends up saying, awkwardly waving the doll around, the golden curls of her hair bouncing up and down with the movement.

“Oh, shame,” Preston laments as they get off the escalator. “Whose doll is that, then?”

Adam is about to tell him when a familiar voice reaches them, “You’re late, Jensen.”

Across the corridor, Frank Pritchard glares at Adam and Preston as if the mere sight of them gives him a headache. Adam offers Preston a dismissive snort and makes his way towards Pritchard with a curt, “I got what you asked, _Francis_.” He makes a show of shoving the doll into Frank’s hands, can’t stop himself from crowding up a bit closer to him, staring him down. “Will you tell me what you need this for?”

Frank pulls the doll away with a sharp movement, completely unintimidated by Adam’s hostility. “Come with me,” he says, nodding towards the tech lab. “You’ll probably want to have this conversation in private.”

-x-

Adam confused frown turns worried as they enter the tech lab — he’s familiar with Pritchard’s particular brand of chaos, but this is a whole new level. The lab looks like it’s been hit by a hurricane, papers and pieces of equipment scattered around every available surface including the floor, and the smell… it’s not bad, but it’s unusual, the woodsy scent of Frank’s aftershave mingling with burnt plastic and old coffee.

“Don’t just stand there, Jensen. Close the door,” Frank hisses, pressing the tips of his fingers to his temples as he sits on the couch, the doll flopping face first onto the seat next to him. “Fuck.”

Adam takes a step towards him, his C.A.S.I.E popping all over the place to get a read on the tech. “Are you alright there, Pritchard?”

“Just this… horrible, _horrible_ headache.”

“You should go to the clinic,” Adam offers as he comes to sit on the couch’s arm opposite Frank. Frank laughs bitterly.

“Yeah. I tried that already. They told me to drink lots of liquid and avoid bright screens.” Adam can’t help but snort. “I thought Sarif had told you about the doll.”

Adam shakes his head. “No. Just told me you needed one. Which, well…” Adam suppresses his amusement much the same way he did when his boss first told him to get Frank a doll, but then Frank says, “As far as corporate espionage goes, this is a fucked up one, Jensen.” Frank is not looking at him. He has this grimace on his face, his words almost angry. “The Allendes’ youngest daughter’s just been admitted to a hospital, last night. It looks like she’s going to be there for a while, so Sarif wants us to plant a bug.”

Adam looks away, then, stomach twisting up in knots. _Allende_. The name is familiar. One of those startups that have been giving them trouble, maybe?

“The _doll_ is the bug?” he asks. Frank nods.

“I’ve just finished putting the circuit together. It should break into whatever wireless device it gets close to, virtually undetectable.” Frank gestures towards his desk and the array of tools and crafting parts scattered on top of it. “And it also transmits audio, so…”

“How old is she?” Adam interrupts. “The girl?”

Frank hesitates before saying, “Five or six.” Anger and shame flash around Adam’s HUD, all too relatable. “The bug itself has enough juice in it to last a few years, so, whatever happens…”

Frank stops talking abruptly, holding his breath.

“Are you going to throw up?” Adam asks, alarmed.

After a second, Frank says, “No, I just-” He leans back against the couch and starts to pull his legs up. “I just need to lay down a bit.”

He does just that, his head propped the armrest while a limp hand covers his eyes. Adam can’t help but stare. Frank’s never been a very healthy-looking guy, but he’s never been quite like this either. He looks… weak, dark circles under his sunken eyes, his face pale as a sheet of paper.

After the silence has stretched awkwardly long, Adam lamely offers, “I could get you something from the clinic, if you wanted. A painkiller.”

For a second he thinks he hasn’t been heard, but then Frank grunts in response, “Oh, you’re still here.”

Even in his lethargic state, Frank manages to sound annoyed. Adam snorts. For a second, he almost forgot what a prissy little shit his coworker could be. He’s is not entirely sure exactly when he and Pritchard crossed the line from obvious contempt for each other onto this oddly antagonistic comradery, but that’s bound to happen when you work with someone for so long, under such unique circumstances, Adam supposes. Sometimes he does enjoy it a bit too much, though, how easy it is to get a rise out of Pritchard.

“Oh, I think you should go home early if you can. See the sun for a change, try and get laid. I heard that’s good for headaches,” Adam snaps back, easy as breathing.

Trash talking Frank has become such a knee-jerk reaction Adam only realizes what he just set himself up for when Frank is shooting back, “Are you _offering_, Jensen?”

The sentence is said very casually, but there’s a dirty, almost flirty twist to it. Adam smirks. Two can play this game.

“Wouldn’t _you_ like that?”

Frank’s face softens a bit at that. He opens his mouth to answer, but whatever response he intended on giving is interrupted by the arrival of a very talkative David Sarif — barely has a foot inside the lab and he’s talking about setting a timetable, and is the bug ready?

Sarif doesn’t seem to notice how shakily Frank sits back up, how wearily he tells him that within the hour, he’ll have the doll ready.

Adam leaves when Sarif does, an idea coming together inside his mind.

-x-

The fact that Adam Jensen doesn’t particularly enjoy being nice to people doesn’t mean he _can’t _do nice things. It’s just that he chooses to do so on his own terms, like leaving a huge cup of fresh coffee and a few good and strong painkillers on Pritchard’s desk when the tech leaves the lab — and if Pritchard’s computer just happens to be right there, surprisingly easy to break into considering he’s head of cyber security, it’s just a coincidence.

_Well_, Adam thinks, after having a peek through Frank’s messages. It’s no wonder the tech is having headaches, what with the amount of threatening spam flooding his inbox. It bothers him to the point Adam doesn’t even realize Frank, coming down the hall back to the lab, freezes when he sees Adam leaving his office.

There goes my last energy bar, Frank thinks to himself. Then he sees the coffee and painkillers on his desk. He’s still not totally sure where he stands when it comes to Adam Jensen, but the gesture has something warm settling into his chest. He realizes on his first sip that the coffee is not the same from their cafeteria. This is the good stuff. Maybe from around the corner? And then it dawns on him that _maybe_ he shouldn’t be drinking random things people leave in his office.

He reaches Adam through his Infolink.

“Was it you?” he asks. “The coffee and the pills.”

Adam’s amused, “You’re welcome,” shouldn’t make him feel warm, but it does. Frank’s stomach is still a bit uneasy, but for a different reason altogether as finishes putting the doll back together after pushing the bug, a device the size of a lentil, into a hole he cut into the soft rubber of her head. He carefully rearranges the curls around her face, trying not to feel utterly corrupted as he distorts something so clearly pure.

Frank calls Athene Margoulis. Tells her to get a message to Sarif.

“It’s ready,” he says, pretending his words don’t taste like blood.

-x-

When David Sarif comes down to pick up the doll, he has Adam with him. If Adam notices the empty cup on Frank’s desk and the absence of the pills, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Is it working already?” Sarif asks, holding the doll up to his face. The doll stares blankly back at him, indifferent to his businesslike ruthlessness.

Frank shakes his head. “Tell me when it’s been planted, and I’ll activate it.”

Sarif approvingly nods at Frank, but there’s no satisfaction on his face. He puts the doll down with a commanding, “Let’s go, Adam.”

Adam doesn’t follow him immediately. Frank looks a bit better, but now that Adam has a better idea what he’s looking at, he can see clearly how skittish the hacker is, exhausted gaze darting around the room as if expecting something to jump from behind the couch or something.

Adam’s about to say something about it when the tech asks, “So, you're going to the hospital too?”

Adam hums his confirmation and Frank’s eyes narrow. He almost effectively hides his discomfort. If it weren’t for the C.A.S.I.E, Adam wouldn’t have picked up on it.

“Why?” Frank asks, aiming for uninterested, and Adam shrugs, not sure how to answer that. It’s what he’s been told to do. It’s his job.

Frank's lips press together into an unhappy tight line.

“We won't be long,” Adam says and it sounds so off, trying to be reassuring even though he doesn’t know why.

There’s not much more he can say, though, and when he leaves, Frank is already back at his computer.


	2. Chapter 2

Frank has these stray thoughts, sometimes, invasive little things that don’t let go once he lets them in, until he lets them take over, like… is it just him or do they have very few security personnel working today? Aside from Jensen and that other guy, Preston or something. The building itself is oddly quiet, no chatting in the hallway, no interns running random errands. There’s usually at least two guards roaming the lobby downstairs, but Frank doesn’t remember seeing anyone when he came in unreasonably early this morning.

There’s no harm in checking, though. Right? Indulging his restless anxiety, just a bit.

Frank pulls up some data on his computer, trying to figure out where the missing employees might be, but there are no training workshops or staff meetings today.

Frank tries to keep his breathing steady, _really_ tries not to freak out, but in the end he brings his Infolink up anyway.

“Jensen,” he calls. Jensen doesn’t reply immediately, but Frank can hear him walking and then a door closing. He waits, right leg bouncing up and down, his knee scraping the underside of his desk.

“Pritchard, do you need something?” There’s no more annoyance on Jensen’s voice these days and Frank finds himself almost missing it, the familiar mockery. With how serious Adam sounds, what before was only mild concern, born out of paranoia and too much caffeine, too little sleep, solidifies into actual fear.

“How many men do you have on duty today, Jensen?” Frank bluntly asks.

“Well, the usual amount, I guess.” Adam sounds vaguely confused. “Why do you ask?”

Frank swallows.

“More than half the staff didn’t come into work today.” Frank feels cold as he says the words despite the midday sun blaring down onto the building’s windows, painting everything in sepia-amber tones.

“Half…” Frank can hear the frown in Adam’s voice. He hates it. “That can’t be right.”

“Well, it _is_ right. And I have no idea why. It’s Wednesday, for god’s sake, what were you thinking?”

“You really think I had anything to do with it? HR takes care of days-off and stuff like that,” Adam explains. Frank’s fingers tingle with adrenaline as they hover above his keyboard, fingertips just barely grazing the keys. “Just… exactly _how_ short-staffed are we?”

“We have about twenty-five percent of our usual physical security.” Frank tries to focus on the numbers and not on the reality of the situation, because if something were to happen, you see, this would be ideal. And his heart hammering inside his chest _knows_ that.

Maybe today is the day he’s made to pay for his sins.

“You sound worried,” Adam helpfully points out.

Frank snorts bitterly. “Oh, _do_ I?”

Even his sarcasm is weak. He sounds vaguely out of breath. Weak, so fucking _weak_. “You _do_. Damnit…” There’s some rustling on Adam’s side. Frank hears Sarif’s voice before Adam whispers, “Alright, Pritchard, I want you to listen to me. I know you’re worried, so maybe you should go to my office? Just lock the door and wait there for us to come back.”

“Why your office?” Frank asks, but he’s already shutting down his computer and walking out of the lab.

Even though Frank is just getting started indulging his concern, Adam sounds pretty much done with it. “Just do it.” Frank doesn’t respond. He looks up and down the ominously empty hallway before making his way to Adam’s office as if trying to outrun a power-walking ghost. “There’s a stun gun on my shelf. Look behind _A Clockwork Orange_, inside the medicine box. If you need it.”

Frank doesn’t waste time wondering why Jensen buys so easily into his paranoia. He doesn’t really want to know how much info his colleague actually has on him. He is perfectly aware of how much of a snoop Adam Jensen is, thank you very much. Still, when Frank locks himself inside the man’s office, stun gun held in a loose grasp and head swimming with every possible horrible outcome for this day, he doesn’t go through Adam’s things. Not really because he respects Adam’s privacy, though, but because his mind is racing too much, unfocused. The lights are low inside the room and every small movement outside has Frank clutching the gun in a sweaty grasp until god know how much later Adam pops back onto Frank’s Infolink to tell him they’re back.

“I'm still here,” Frank tells him, fighting back a huge wave of relief. He hopes Adam can’t hear it.

“I'm coming up.” The words set up a different type of nervousness in the pit of Frank’s stomach as he braces himself for Adam’s arrival, stun gun lying harmlessly on Adam’s desk. “Jensen out.”

The instant Adam closes the door behind his back, Frank stands up.

“You went through my messages,” he accuses.

Adam doesn’t deny it. Instead, he walks towards Frank, fearless, the shades over his eyes retracting with a flick of his fingers. Frank feels better now that he can see Adam’s eyes, but not much.

For months, Frank’s been suspicious of his own shadow, waiting for an invisible enemy to finally strike — he’s gotten messages, phone calls, weird cards in the mail. The fact that Adam seems to somehow be aware of it only highlights how big of a fuck-up this has become.

“Sorry,” Adam has the audacity to say even though he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “You should have said something, though.”

Frank rolls his eyes.

It’s not like he’s been trying to hide his tracks or anything, but now Adam knows what’s been keeping him up at night, looking over his shoulder when he walks the streets, taking long ways and back alleys everywhere he goes.

“It's none of your business.” The words are weak.

“Of course it is. Your safety is my job.”

Frank looks away. Does whatever he can to school the anger off his face, perfectly aware that his companion can read him like a book. Such a goddamn _professional_, Jensen is.

Frank squares his shoulders, tries to let go of some of the tension. “Head of cyber security here, Jensen. I can _handle_ it.”

His eyes burn from lack of sleep, from staring too long at his computer. Adam goes straight for the kill, then. “You haven't been going home, have you?”

Lying to Adam is useless, Frank knows. “No. Not to my home, anyway.”

Adam frowns. He almost seems to _care_ or something.

“Where are you staying?”

Frank shrugs.

“Here, sometimes. Or on a friend's couch. Motels.”

“That's stupid,” Adam helpfully provides. Frank wants to punch him.

“_You're_ stupid.”

The weak response gets a smirk out of Adam’s gloomy expression. “You've been better,” he offers, but doesn’t seem too judgmental. “People said there was a woman downstairs. Asking for you.”

Frank feels cold inside. A woman?

“Who?” he asks.

“I don't know. Nobody does. Nobody _asked_.”

The idiots. Adam doesn’t seem happy about it.

“But...” Frank begins. The hand he gestures with is shaking, so he balls it into a fist and lowers it again. Adam takes a step towards him.

“I’ll check the security footage later. Look, I know how it sounds, but if someone is after you and they got in here, somehow…” The fact that he is putting into words exactly what Frank’s thinking freaks Frank out even further. “Who are they, Frank? Why are they after you?”

It takes Frank a second to realize Adam isn’t calling him Pritchard. Nor does he disdainfully call him Francis. No. _Frank_. This is Adam talking to him like a friend and it’s sweet, really, but still doesn't prompt a direct answer.

Patience running out, Adam nonchalantly states, “Fuck this.” The unreal glint of his prosthetic eyes burn with resolution as they stare into Frank’s pale ones. “You're staying with me tonight.”

“Fine,” Frank replies, all fight gone from him. At least he might get some sleep if he crashes at Adam’s.

-x-

Even though Adam is back in the building, Frank keeps the lab door locked. He downs cup after cup of coffee in hopes of fighting off his exhaustion and keeps checking his email almost compulsively, but no new messages come. It’s almost six when Adam pops into his Infolink.

“I’m done for the day,” he says. Frank sighs.

“Yeah. Me too,” he replies even though he hasn’t been able to get much done. Just another useless day.

“Meet me out front.” It’s simple and to the point, but Adam’s words have Frank tensing involuntarily. It’s not dark outside yet and Frank has been making sure to only leave work after dark, when he’s harder to see. To follow. He also tends to leave through one of the emergency exits and he’s about to tell Adam that when Adam grunts, “Jensen out.”

Frank grabs his backpack and makes his way downstairs and out, trying not to feel like all eyes are on him. Adam has a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers when Frank reaches him. Frank almost asks him for one, but he’s too busy checking their surroundings in what he thinks is a surreptitious manner.

“You can stop looking around like that. You’re safe,” Adam tells him with puff of smoke. “I checked everything,”

“Sure you did,” Frank replies, not believing him for an instant.

“I’m serious,” Adam tells him. He starts walking, waiting for Frank to fall into step beside him. “I swept the whole building. There’s nothing here.”

Frank follows him and the scent of burnt tobacco, both wanting and not wanting to believe him. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” They stop at a crosswalk, side by side, and wait for the light to turn green. As soon as it does, Adam asks, “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

Of course he has questions, Frank muses. Frank’s friends tried asking, too. The problem is, Frank doesn’t really have any clear answers to give.

“Not here. Not now.” Frank nods towards the green light across from them. “Let’s go.”

Adam looks like he wants to argue, but chooses to stay quiet. The way to his apartment is not long and, if Frank walks a bit too close to him, their arms bumping here and there, Adam doesn’t say anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pizza and a sleepover.

It’s so quiet around them that Frank can hear his blood rushing in his ears, his labored breathing louder than Adam’s heavy footsteps ahead of him. Frank mutters a soft, “Excuse me,” as he follows Adam into the dark apartment.

Adam flicks a light switch and replies with a distracted, “Make yourself at home.”

Frank takes his time looking at the revealing clutter scattered around the living room before taking a seat on Adam’s couch. Adam watches Frank watch his space, his personal bubble, invading so carefully it almost doesn’t feel like an invasion at all. Frank’s head hangs low, tension coiled tight between his shoulders, his backpack on the floor between his feet.

“Do you need to borrow some clothes?” Adam asks after a stretch of silence.

Frank shakes his head, but the movement is slow.

“I’ve got some clean clothes with me.”

Lately, he always has extra clothes with him, is what Frank doesn’t say. He never knows for sure if the place he’ll sleep in will be the same in which he woke up, these days.

Adam hums in acquiescence and Frank looks at him over his shoulder. Adam’s gaze shifts away uncomfortably. “I’m going to take a shower, if you don’t mind,” Adam says, already walking towards the bathroom. “There are some restaurant flyers in the kitchen, if you don’t mind ordering us something.”

“What should I order?” Frank calls after him.

“Whatever you want. Credits are on the counter.”

With the shower running faintly on the background, tension begins to seep away from Frank’s body leaving only exhaustion in its wake. Even when he stays at friends’ places, he doesn’t really allow himself to relax the way he is relaxing now. Somehow knowing Adam is right there in the other room allows that last layer of apprehension to be stripped from him.

Whatever comes their way, Adam is there. Adam can help.

Frank kicks off his shoes off and leaves them by the front door before heading to the kitchen to browse through Adam’s assorted menus. He eventually settles on pizza from a place that sounds vaguely familiar. He surely knows he placed an order, but, by the time Adam rejoins him in the living room, Frank can’t for the life of him remember what words he used.

“Here,” Adam says, handing Frank a folded gray towel. He’s dressed in sweatpants, hair wet and soft cotton shirt clinging to his steam warm body. “Shower’s all yours.”

Frank thanks him, trying not to stare at his still wet, tousled hair, and rushes past towards the fogged up bathroom. He tries to be quick in the shower, but keeps getting distracted by stray thoughts, like the way the shower smells like Adam even though Frank’s never really stopped to consider what Adam _smells_ like. The towel Adam got him is a bit rough from the drier, maybe too much soap in the washer, but the friction against his skin is a grounding and welcome one.

When Frank returns to the living room intending to ask Adam where he should hang his towel to dry, he finds the man lying on a couch that’s been very clearly made for sleeping, a paperback book in his hands. Adam’s feet are propped on the couch’s arm, his legs crossed at the ankles, and Frank finds himself pushing them to the side so he can sit there, augmented fiber smooth against his fingers, so warm he almost pulls away in surprise.

Adam obediently moves his feet, making space for Frank, and after a few seconds presses the open book against his chest. Without his shades, Frank almost can’t stand to look at him.

“Are you ready to tell me who is after you?” Adam asks. Instead of answering, Frank pulls his wet hair to the side and wraps the towel around it, trying to get it as dry as possible.

“The truth is I don’t know.” He ends up saying, defeat written across his face. “I have my suspicions, but I’m not sure yet. And I don’t know what good telling you will do, honestly.”

“You really don’t think I can help, do you?” Shit. Adam sounds pissed. Frank shakes his head, frustration clawing at his insides.

“It’s not that you _can’t_. You shouldn’t.” Frank sets the damp towel down on his lap, dark hair falling in disarray across his face, and folds it nervously. “This is personal. It has nothing to do with our jobs.”

Adam sits up, scoffing. “Really, Pritchard? Because I would say that if someone’s either messing or… I don’t know, keeping _track_ of the employees’ shifts, it has _everything_ to do with our jobs.” At his words, Frank stands up and paces around aimlessly. Nervously, he hangs the towel around the wooden back of Adam’s couch, not really thinking. “Hell, if _any_ employee is in any sort of danger, we look into it. You know that. And it’s not like you’re an ordinary staff member.”

Frank can’t see Adam’s words for what they really mean, though, and misdirected guilt twists his next words. “What happened before was a stupid mistake, Jensen. And I did my time. I’m _still_ paying for it.”

It had been a bad job, the one that got Frank arrested so long ago. Frank only realized it after being neck deep into shit, no way of escaping other than finishing it.

Adam frowns at Frank.

“What are you talking about?”

Frank turns his back to Adam. He half-expects Adam to push, but then the intercom buzzes. Adam gets up to answer it. Frank crosses his arms and waits.

_The pizza_, Adam mumbles as if Frank hasn’t heard every single word he just said.

They don’t speak again until the pizza and plates are on the kitchen counter and a wine bottle is being poured into glasses that were definitely not made for wine.

And, then, what Adam says it, “Eat, Frank.”

Frank does eat. Even though his stomach is tied up into knots, the pizza is too beautiful to ignore, cheese deliciously melted atop vividly red sauce, strings pulling as the slices are pulled apart.

“What I meant is you’re the chief of cyber security.” Adam bites into his folded up slice. He’s not even using his plate, not really. “If there is anyone after Sarif Industries, you’re a…”

“Liability,” Frank finishes Adam’s sentence for him. Adam sets his pizza down and, yeah, that’s a glare, alright.

“No. _Target_. You have to stop doing that.”

Frank roll his eyes, but doesn’t try to complete Adam’s thoughts for him again. They eat in silence, mostly, and are halfway through the wine bottle when he admits, “I’m not very good dinner company at the moment, I’m afraid.”

Adam snorts and reaches for his third slice, but doesn’t say anything. Skin still pink and soft from his shower, Frank feels naked even though Adam is not really looking at him.

“There’s no need to feel so guilty, you know,” Adam tells him. “About your past, I mean. I don’t know the specifics, but I know you’ve been through the system. I don’t hold anything against you except that you are an absolute pain in my ass. And you shouldn’t, either.”

Adam bites into his pizza.

“You mentioned a woman,” Frank says. Better to focus on something different. “There was a woman asking after me. Right?”

Adam nods, face unreadable.

“That’s what I’ve been told,” he says. “I’ve checked the security footage, though. We didn’t catch her on video.”

“I think…” Frank starts, but stops himself. “But it _can’t_ be.”

Adam cleans his hands carefully on a paper napkin, a wrinkle deepening between his eyebrows. “Old love affair?” he asks. Frank snorts.

“The furthest thing from it. An old friend’s sister, is what I think.”

That catches Adam’s attention. “Whose?”

Frank shakes his head. “I’ll tell you when I know for sure.” The pizza is almost cold, already, cheese hardening into a greasy, unappetizing mess. “May I go to sleep now or do you want to carry this interrogation into the morning?”

Adam actually chuckles at that, relieved to see that some of the Frank he knows is still there, despite the tension.

Adam brushes his teeth while Frank washes the dishes they used and Frank takes his turn right after him. When Frank comes back to the living room, mint on his tongue, Adam is once again laying on the couch with a book in his hands. Frank leans against the wall, feeling heavier than he’s ever felt before.

“Am I supposed to take your bed?” he asks rather incredulously.

Adam yawns. “If you don’t mind. I’m pretty comfortable here.”

Frank raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure _you_ don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” Adam seems genuine, eyes blinking slowly as he waves dismissively. “Sleep well.”

Frank nods. “Thanks, Adam.”

The name slips out before Frank can change his mind.

Frank almost tricks himself into thinking it’s going to be okay, but panic envelops him the moment he lays on Adam’s bed. It’s too much. The sheets have been recently changed and the bedroom is reasonably clean, but he keeps thinking about how deep he is inside Adam’s personal bubble. This is Adam’s bed. These are Adam’s pillows. This is Adam’s air, the safety of Adam’s walls.

Exhaustion eventually wins, though, and he sleeps fitfully. He dreams of, for once, not being alone, but will not remember anything it in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hand-holding, coffee and cigarettes

An alarm that Frank doesn’t recognize wakes him up. Panic takes over as the tech sits up on the unfamiliar bed. And then he realizes what woke him up: a very shirtless Adam Jensen carelessly rummaging through his closet, his back turned to Frank.

Drowsy with sleep as he is, Frank helplessly stares. For a second too long, it seems. Just enough for Adam to catch him in the act.

“Morning, Pritchard.” There’s something almost flirtatious in Adam’s lopsided smirk and Frank doesn’t want to linger on how his heart stutters.

“Morning,” he replies, soft-spoken under the pale morning light as he rarely is. It feels too early to wake up, the mattress under him too soft, the moment too surreal. Rubbing his eyes, Frank begs, “Tell me you have coffee.”

Adam pulls a shirt on without as much as a word. Then, he reaches for the steaming blue mug next to him and hands it over. Frank accepts it without thinking. The dark, rich smell of fresh coffee permeates his senses for a second.

“There’s more in the kitchen. Hope it’s decent.”

Frank takes a measured sip.

It’s perfect.

No sugar or cream, just bitter enough to be almost sweet, and Frank suddenly realizes this is _Adam’s _coffee. That Adam just _gave_ to him. As he lies in Adam’s bed, sleep-drunk with his hair the wild loose mess it always turns into when he sleeps. The image alone is so unsettling Frank promptly gets up to follow Adam out of the room and into the kitchen where his coworker is pouring himself another cup of coffee.

“How did you sleep?” Adam asks, his back still turned to Frank.

“Fine,” Frank replies. It was the best night of sleep he’s had in a while, he doesn’t dare mention. He has become quite fond of Adam’s mattress during the night. One day, when it doesn’t feel so awkward to do so, he’ll ask where Adam got it.

Frank rests his hip against the kitchen counter and sets his coffee down for a second as he tries to pull his hair into a ponytail. He’ll need to brush it or something.

Adam turns to face him, then, gaze heavy as he looks him over. At least his shades are retracted, Frank thinks, bracing for bad news. All Adam says, however, is, “You look different like this.”

Frank knows. He feels like an old computer booting up. It takes him forever to get his defenses up and running.

“Not a morning person,” he grumpily explains.

“I gathered as much.” Adam sips his coffee and makes a face. Frank wonders if he just burned his tongue.

There are, as it turns out, many things Frank wonders about Adam.

“Can you even-?” The words escape him before he stops himself.

Adam’s eyebrows shoot up in curiosity. “Can I what?”

Frank shakes his head. Feels foolish, all of a sudden. “Nothing. Stupid question.”

His mouth tends to move before he can think especially right after he wakes up. Frank drinks the last of his coffee in greedy gulps, trying to get the caffeine to kick-start his brain.

“What is it?” Adam insists.

Frank waves a hand up. _Hold on_. He turns around, rinses his mug in ice-cold water and asks, “Can you burn your hands?” As the words leave his mouth, the question sounds more stupid than ever. He closes the tap and gestures around nervously with wet hands. “Like, if the mug’s too hot or something.”

Adam offers him a dishcloth. Frank takes it.

“Not really,” Adam says, crossing his arms. Frank tries not to think of the way he knows Adam’s skin merges into the black mesh of materials, organic into artificially organic, man-engineered. As he tries not to stare at his crossed arms, Frank ends up almost losing himself in the steady gaze of Adam’s almost _too_ human eyes. “Not the way I could when I had actual hands.”

Frank twists the dishcloth between his fingers.

“Those _are_ actual hands.”

Too blunt, Frank thinks. Adam almost rolls his eyes. “You _know_ what I mean.”

“I suppose.” Frank shrugs. “You do have feeling in them, though, right? I mean. I _know_ you do, but… how does it _feel_? In comparison.”

For all he’s read about it, Frank’s never actually had the chance to hear it straight from someone who’s been so extensively augmented. Adam considers the question as he finishes his coffee. His scowl is not that potent without the shades over his eyes, Frank thinks. He looks more lost than inconvenienced by the question.

“I do have feeling in them.” Adam abandons his mug and raises his hand, palm facing himself. He stares inquisitively at it and Frank can’t help but do the same. “It’s _different_, though. It’s like… pain doesn’t really _hurt_. It should, but it’s… it’s hard to explain.”

“Can I-?” Frank begins, reaching out before he can really stop himself. His curiosity has always won against what’s socially acceptable. That’s something he and Adam have in common, even though Frank likes to tell himself they’re _completely_ different people.

Adam doesn’t seem to think much of Frank’s gesture. He allows the tech to take his hand with a blank expression and Frank seizes the opportunity to run the pads of his fingers against every joint, test the flex of Adam’s fingers, the weight of his hand. He traces artificial tendons and muscle, his touch light and quick.

Finally, thumb rubbing a circle against the curve of Adam’s wrist, right where his pulse would have been, Frank asks, “What does this feel like?”

“Warm, mostly. Like it should tickle, but it doesn't.” Adam tells him. “I lost that feeling. And some others.”

“You still feel pain, though.” Frank doesn’t move. Doesn’t let go.

“It’s more important to recognize pain than it is to be ticklish.” Adam muses. “Before, I used to get this tingling sensation from time to time. Pins and needles. In my legs, mostly. Poor circulation or something. But not anymore.”

Adam moves first, fingers tangling with Frank’s. The material of his hand is hard and smooth, but warm. This might just be the strangest thing Frank’s ever done, the tech thinks.

Holding hands with Adam Jensen in his kitchen.

“Are _you_ ticklish, Francis?” Adam sounds genuinely curious. He caresses the delicate skin of Frank’s wrist with the tip of his thumb. It's so intimate, so loving.

Frank shivers.

He doesn’t answer because he can’t breathe through the flutter in his chest. He doesn’t move, either. Just looks at Adam, _really_ looks at him for what feels like the first time ever.

Adam’s expression shifts slowly as his mind wanders and Frank wonders where he goes, but doesn’t dare disturb the quiet around them. Adam lets go of him unhurriedly, nothing in the movement indicating discomfort or regret, but his mouth ends up set in that unhappy little curve Frank hates so much.

Frank used to think it was a mask, that almost sneer permanently etched onto Adam’s face. He feels differently now.

Frank reflexively cradles his own hand and says, “I never asked… I know I would have heard if something went wrong, but… Anyway, how did the… _visit_ go yesterday?”

The question catches Adam’s attention. “The hospital, you mean?”

Frank nods. He hadn’t been able to check on the bug’s feed from Adam’s computer the day before and by the time he finally did there was nothing worth of notice going on.

Adam stands up straighter, face closing off further. “I’d rather not…” he begins. Clears his throat. Frank doesn’t push. Adam ends up mumbling a tight but promising, “Later?”

Frank nods. “Sure.”

They finish getting ready between a couple of _hold on a second_ and _did you see my-?_ It’s not raining yet when they leave, but the heavy grey clouds above them promise a storm sometime soon. By the time they arrive at Sarif Industries, heavy raindrops are beginning to fall.

Frank and Adam don’t talk much, but they walk in together and only when they’re halfway up the escalator is that Frank notices people looking at them a bit too much.

“Goddamnit,” he mutters.

He’s been working cyber-security long enough to know how office gossip works. He should have grabbed a cigarette, should have told Adam to walk in ahead of him.

“What is it?” Adam asks. With his shades now covering his eyes, Frank can’t really tell if he’s annoyed or worried.

“Nothing important,” Frank replies. A couple of security guards nod at them as they walk down the hallway and Adam doesn’t need to walk Frank to the tech lab, but he does it anyway.

It feels weird that he does. It feels even weirder that Frank appreciates it, the protective looming presence of him.

Still. People will talk.

“Pritchard,” Adam calls as Frank opens the door to the lab. He’s whispering, leaning in as if afraid someone will hear.

“What?” Frank urgently asks. “What is it?”

“Keep your door locked, today.” Adam tells him. “Just in case.”

Frank nods and steps inside, eyes downcast. Adam lingers outside his door a second more almost as if he still has something to say. No words come, though, and they both start their days a bit more uneasy than usual.

-x-

There is a shift in the air, after that. The sort of thing that’s hard to pinpoint as the day drags on and yet impossible to ignore. It’s almost lunchtime when Adam finally realizes he’s the subject of the newest gossip going around the company. As he stands up from his desk, he realizes something else.

His back hurts like a motherfucker.

Around noon, Faridah Malik tells him to come up to the helipad. She’s stuffing her face with Chinese noodles when he gets there. Normally, he would say something about her not sharing and they would joke around a bit, but this is no normal day for him.

He steals Malik’s fortune cookie (“You will have good luck and overcome many hardships.”) and sits on still wet concrete as she tries to feed him a few pieces of broccoli and carrot before they get to the elephant in the room.

“Didn’t know the two of you were so close.”

Neither did Adam. He shrugs, trying to look more untroubled than he actually feels. The morning rain let up enough that the helipad is beginning to dry, but thunder still rumbles in the distance.

“It’s not what you think.”

Malik nods. “I figured as much.” She stares into her almost empty cartoon of food with a critical look before pushing it towards Adam. Adam sighs theatrically before taking her chopsticks to finish the onions. When he’s about to leave a few minutes later, Malik remarks, “People talk too much.”

-x-

Talking to Malik brightens his day up a bit, but Adam still feels like shit. At least Malik didn’t push for answers he doesn’t have, questions he’s not ready to ask. His shoulders and neck, already stiff from sleeping on the couch, coil up in tension as focuses on work.

He’s seriously considering asking someone for a painkiller when, a few hours later, his _Infolink_ goes off.

“Jensen,” The unmistakable nasal voice greets him. Adam leans back on his chair, away from the computer. He’d been staring at reports of security breaches from years ago, trying to make sense of Sarif’s latest plan.

“_Francis_,” Adam replies and Frank can immediately tell he’s in a mood.

“I need to show you something.” Adam makes a face and lifts both arms in a stretch that only manages to pull at his sore muscles. Frank goes on, “Because I _know_ you will find out on your own anyway, I’m forwarding you a screencap of a message I just got. Also, I’m granting you access to the data I compiled from the bug feed.” There’s a pause. “It is… a _lot_.”

Adam scoffs. “Is this you asking me for help?”

“Well… I _could_ use a pair of extra hands,” Frank admits after brief hesitation.

Adam opens his inbox and clicks on the screencap Frank sent him. As the file loads, he asks, “Don’t you have a bunch of interns for these situations?”

“Don’t play dumb, Jensen. It’s not _cute_.” The annoyance on the tech’s voice make Adam’s lips twitch involuntarily. “The _last_ thing we need is a bunch of babbling interns looking through this mess. What on Earth is Sarif thinking?”

Adam scoffs again. For all they know, David Sarif is probably listening to them right now.

It is the screencap Frank sent him, however, that has him saying, “Alright, al_right_. I’m coming down. Jensen out.”

He stops by the cafeteria first, though, the obviously threatening message in Frank’s screencap still in his mind. He ends up pouring a second cup of coffee before heading down to the tech lab. If he knows Pritchard at all, the tech might be in need of some caffeine.

Frank only seems to notice Adam’s presence in the lab when Adam sets the coffee on his desk.

“Your door was unlocked,” Adam remarks.

Frank opens his inbox and clicks on the first message for Adam to see. The sender’s email is just a jumble of letters and numbers. A throwaway.

“You said you were coming,” Frank explains. Adam nods.

“So… how serious do you think they are?”

Frank sounds more frustrated than worried when he replies, “I frankly have no idea.” He takes one of the paper cups Adam’s brought and sniffs it before taking a sip. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve never been threatened before, but I’ve also never been so vulnerable before. You saw it. They’ve got eyes on where I live and where I work, Jensen.”

Adam crosses his arms.

“How long has this been going on?”

Frank doesn’t hesitate.

“Five weeks. Two days. Maybe longer.” Frank drinks with a frown. “I started a log five weeks ago, though. Sometimes I’d receive a phone call and there would be no one on the other side of the line. And then I’d hang up and there would be no fucking record of any calls received. Nothing at all. After the third one or so I started logging them. And then the threats began.”

“Shit, Frank,” Adam exhales. He wants to reach for Frank’s shoulder, soothe the tense line there, but manages to stop himself. It’s enough that he now has a better idea of what’s happening. He might be able to help.

Might be able to protect him.

Shaking his head, Frank clicks on the folder he now shares with Adam. A few documents and audio files appear on the screen, innocuous for anyone who doesn’t know what they’re looking at.

“The Allende girl has meningitis,” Frank tells Adam, who nods even though he already knew that, sort of. “She was in septic shock when they took her in, if I’m not mistaken. There’s a big chance she might still die. And, if she makes it, there’s an ever bigger chance she’ll have some damage from the whole ordeal.” It doesn’t sound like he’s debriefing. It sounds like he’s ranting. Frank looks up at Adam, scowling. “And here we are, exploiting the tragedy to get leverage against her parents and whoever comes near her.”

Adam nods, throat tight. He reaches for his coffee just to have something to do with his hands. When he drinks, he tastes nothing.

“You know, the doll looks just like her.” Adam’s voice is low, his words clipped. “Only, you know… _not_ sick. I had no idea, though. I just picked the first doll I found. It was an accident, but she _loved_ that thing.”

Adam drinks on, thinking of how much brighter the little girl’s eyes became when her father handed her the doll before thanking David Sarif for the consideration, for stopping by. They shook latex-gloved hands as Adam watched through the infirmary window. A minute or two later, Sarif left the room and they were off.

Adam finishes his coffee and throws the paper cup into Frank’s waste bin. Frank watches his every move, eyes dark and serious.

“I feel like such a piece of shit,” Adam ends up saying.

Frank looks away, chuckling a dry, bitter laugh.

“You’re not the one who _projected_ the damn thing.” The tech impatiently reaches to the side and pulls a drawer open. “Fuck this, I need a cigarette. Do you want to see the feed while I’m gone?”

Adam shakes his head. “I can do that later. I’ll come with you.”

Adam is proud to say he knows his way around most buildings he enters. It comes with the territory. There’s no locked front door that could keep him out if he wants in, no emergency exit he doesn’t know.

That’s why when Frank takes him out an old fire escape near the restrooms, Adam can’t help but remark, “I didn’t know this was here.”

“They added emergency exits all over the building and forgot to take the old fire escapes down. It comes in handy.” Frank offers Adam a cigarette. They light up in turns, shielding the flame of Frank’s lighter from the wind.

Adam inhales. His throat doesn’t burn from the smoke anymore, but the nicotine is a welcome buzz in his blood. Halfway through his cigarette, he asks, “Why are they after you?”

Frank stares off into the distance, midafternoon heat bearing down on them despite the oncoming storm rolling in. “Revenge. If it really is who I think it is.” Frank’s words swim in a cloud of smoke. “Her name is Petra. I was with her brother when we were arrested. He was a cracker. Went by the name Portland.” Lightning slashes the horizon. “He died a few months ago.”

“I’m… sorry?” Adam says as distant thunder claps, the sound muffled, timid.

“Don’t be. I only recently found out.” Frank throws his cigarette butt on the floor and steps on it a bit harder than strictly necessary. “Don’t look at me like that, Jensen. He got involved with the wrong people. That’s it. End of story.”

Adam frowns.

“How is that a motive for her to come after you?”

It says something about him that, after putting it out, Frank picks the burnt cigarette back up. There’s no trashcan nearby and Adam wonders where the tech will dispose of it.

“‘Cause it’s obviously _my_ fault her idiot of a brother decided to join a gang. Since I’m out and the others are still in, I should naturally have tried to break them out. That seem like a reasonable expectation, right?” Frank shakes his head in disbelief. “Fuck my life.”

Adam puts out his cigarette against the sole of his boot.

“You know I actually miss my school years, sometimes? High school and all that bullshit,” Frank goes on. “I wish I could just skip work the way I skipped Art classes.”

Adam snorts inelegantly. Frank holds out his hand and Adam gives him what’s left of his cigarette.

“Thanks for the smoke,” he mutters.

“Anytime.” Frank holds the door open with his free hand, head tilted back. “Ready to go back?”

Adam nods.

After that, working on the data they got from the doll goes a lot more smoothly. Adam even thinks, at one point, that this thing they’re doing might just be what finally breaks Frank out his hatred for him. They take turns getting coffee and snacks as they work on making sense of the data they’ve collected. Meanwhile, a storm rages on outside.

It’s five o’clock when Athene Margoulis calls the tech lab, telling Adam to head over to Sarif’s office as soon as he can. It seems to be so much later, though, with how dark the sky outside is.

“Don’t leave without me,” Adam tells Frank as he heads out.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” It sounds domestic and almost flirtatious but Frank barely looks up, the angles of his face turned pale from the computer screen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fortune cookies, cuddling and indiscreet coworkers

Frank takes one last drag from his cigarette and stares at its burning tip as the smoke catches and scratches his throat. He should really consider quitting, but this is not the day or the week to do so. He flicks the burnt out tip into a nearby trashcan and sighs, arms wrapping around himself against the cold that’s settling in after the rainy day. His worn out grimace darkens a bit further as a familiar figure walks up to him, an exhausted headache blooming behind his eyes. They nod at each other and Frank offers him his pack of cigarettes with a quiet, “What did he want, then?”

“Sarif?” Adam waves a dismissive hand at the cigarettes and takes a step back, waiting for Frank to follow him. “An update.”

Frank nods and gets a new cigarette from his pack before putting the rest away. “What did you tell him?” he asks, palming his every pocket in search of his lighter. He _just_ used the damned thing.

“The truth. We still can’t make heads or tails of the intel we’ve got.” Frank lets out a relieved sigh when he’s finally able to light his cigarette. He doesn’t have to look at Adam to know his coworker is taking inventory of every vehicle and passerby around them. “He wants us to keep him posted.”

Sarif had also not very discretely asked Adam why is it that Frank Pritchard has been arriving _and_ leaving with Adam the last couple of days, but Frank doesn’t need to know that part. Do they have to disclose a change in their relationship, the CEO asked.

_Seriously_, Adam sneered back because he had no idea how else he could have responded.

“Of course he does,” Frank mumbles with a puff of bitter smoke. Under the streetlights, his pale, tired face looks almost ethereal and Adam wishes he were able to stop looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He’d never paid the hacker much mind other than the occasional exchange of insults, so it’s definitely surprising to feel his eyes so pulled towards him.

“Are you hungry?” Adam suddenly asks. “I was thinking Chinese. Is that okay?”

That damn broccoli Malik fed him during lunch had barely scratched the itch. Frank raises an eyebrow, uncertain, but ends up conceding, “If you’re buying.”

They get takeout from a place a couple of blocks away from Adam’s apartment. Adam fishes their fortune cookies from the paper bags as soon as they leave the restaurant. He hands Frank one and then breaks his own open.

“_Accept your independence and use it wisely,” _he reads aloud, footsteps slowing down to a crawl. When he looks at Frank, the tech is staring at his own broken cookie with this disbelieving half-grin that Adam almost can’t stand to look at. “What does yours say?”

Frank shakes his head, starts walking faster. “Nonsense.”

“It’s _always_ nonsense,” Adam reasons. “Come on, let me see it.”

Frank is no longer smiling, but his aggravated glare is almost fond as he hands his paper over with a sullen, “If you insist.”

_An unexpected relationship will become permanent_, Adam reads. He wants to ask what Frank thinks it means, but Frank is very pointedly not looking at him.

Are they _friends_?

The silence they share the rest of the way is uncomfortable, but companionable all the same. Only when they’re sitting on Adam’s couch, the night news playing on the TV as they dive into cartons of fried rice and sesame chicken, does Frank break the silence.

“Hey, listen. I meant to ask… Did you hurt your back or something?” he asks.

Adam considers lying, but the stiff way he’s holding himself is way too telling. “The couch, I think,” he settles on.

Frank chews thoughtfully and offers, “Do you want to trade? I don’t mind sleeping out here.”

Adam picks up a piece of chicken. Drops it again.

_Out here_, Frank says. Out here, in the middle of the living room, where anyone could get to him after getting through the front door. Not that it’s easy to break in, but…

“Nah,” Adam replies, stuffing the piece of chicken into his mouth before he ends up saying something he’ll regret later on. Frank is not done with the topic, though.

“If you don’t mind, we could share. The bed, I mean.” He sounds reasonable, although awkward. “Not that I’m particularly fond of _that_ idea, but it’s certainly big enough.”

Peering into his food carton, Adam comes to the unhappy realization that he’s already eaten all his food and therefore has no excuse not to reply. “Sure.” _Whatever_, he grumpily thinks. As if Frank won’t be the first person to sleep next to him in a long while. Wouldn’t it be weirder if he made a big deal out of it, anyway? Adam stands up. Dumps his trash into the used paper bag and walks away with a quiet, “I’ll go grab a shower, then.”

Frank doesn’t pay him much mind. He takes his times eating, his exhausted thoughts straying from time to time. By the time Frank finally comes into the bedroom, Adam is already in bed, a book in his hands, wet dark hair dampening his pillow. He doesn’t look up so Frank goes ahead and showers.

Adam’s fast asleep when Frank returns, the book lying face down on top of his chest. _Brave new world_. Frank takes the volume from Adam’s loose fingers, leaves it next to the bed. He tries not to stare at Adam’s face, so unfamiliarly relaxed in his sleep, slow, even breaths escaping between parted lips. Tries not to think of how comforting it feels to have him there, how easily it would be to get used to it.

With the direction his thoughts are headed, Frank thinks he won’t be able to fall asleep, but he’s wrong, you see. He drifts off easily to thoughts of palm readers and fortunetellers, the clean scent of Adam’s sheets under his nose and his slow, even breaths lulling Frank to sleep.

-x-

The sky outside is still completely dark when Frank wakes up. He doesn’t understand immediately _what_ woke him up. His eyes are heavy, brain foggy with sleep. Too early, he unhappily thinks. _Way_ too early.

And then he turns over and notices Adam sitting up on the edge of the bed, head hanging low between shoulders that visibly shake. Alarmed, Frank sits up.

“Adam?”

The shaking stops.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”Adam’s voice is a rasp of a whisper, an apology and a secret all in one.

“It’s okay…” Frank scoots a bit closer, mouth too dry. Fucking Chinese food. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, it’s just…”Adam sags forward a bit, fingers, black, tangling through his messy hair as he pushes it away from his face. “Nightmare. Go back to sleep.”

There’s a moment, right then, when Frank thinks Adam is about to stand up. That’s why he does it, Frank will reason with himself later. A man shouldn’t have to leave his own bed. And Frank’s _so_ tired. He just wants to go back to sleep.

So he reaches out, laying a hand on Adam’s back right above his shoulder blade. Adam’s burning up, heat soaking through the thin material of his pajamas. Very softly, Frank calls him again, “Adam.”

He could count on the fingers of one hand how many times he’s used Adam’s first name, but what he’s doing right now is more than that. What he’s saying is, it’s okay. Go back to sleep. _I’m right here_.

It’s not an active decision as much as it’s something that happens, sort of. Fingers inching up, grabbing hold of Adam’s shoulder. And then pulling at it. Gently. And Adam just sort of _goes_, tumbling backwards like a dead tree, starved for that tiny bit of affection as if he’s never been touched before.

Adam’s still facing away from him, but Frank doesn’t really need to look at him. He can _feel_ the tension on Adam’s back, still there, but slowly ebbing away. Frank lets go of Adam long enough to lift up the covers, making room. Adam scoots back. He fits next to Frank like a key into a lock.

“You can tell me,” Frank whispers, smoothing a hand over the hard material of Adam’s arm. Adam is not leaning against him, not really, but he’s so warm it’s almost as if he were. Frank leans on his elbow, thumb tracing circles around Adam’s triceps. “If you want.”

Adam shakes his head, pats Frank’s hand a couple of times, gently. “I’d rather not.”

Frank stills his touches, holds his breath. Adam’s hand doesn’t move.

“Is this okay?” Frank asks, breath ghosting the soft hairs on top of Adam’s head.

“Yeah,” Adam replies. Face buried into the pillow, he sounds half-asleep already. Before he falls back asleep, though, he pulls at Frank’s hand until Frank’s arm is loosely thrown around him. This time, even after he lies back down, it takes Frank a while to fall asleep.

-x-

“Your bedroom is too bright,” Frank announces as he steps out of Adam’s bedroom the following morning. He feels like he’s barely slept, eyes scratchy.

“It helps prevent tardiness,” Adam informs him all the way from the kitchen. He’s stuffing his face with cereal when Frank reaches him. Blinking at Frank far too innocently, Adam asks, “Coffee?”

A bit less miffed about having woken up, Frank nods.

As they go through the motions of their Friday morning routine, both debate bringing up the previous night. Although he’s concluded they’re not exactly friends, Adam is pretty sure they crossed some kind of line.

Just as they’re about to leave, Frank throws him this weirdly blank look and asks, “Is your back still bothering you?”

“Nope,” Adam replies, popping the P, and very deliberately pulls the shades over his eyes.

Frank doesn’t prod any further, but there’s a glint in his gaze that tells Adam that’s not the end of it.

It’s a good thing they work separately most of the day, really. Frank even has lunch in the cafeteria instead of in the lab for a change, which seems to invite all sorts of commentary from his coworkers — the ones brave enough to dare address him, that is. _Look who decided to join us_, a technician says.

“Yeah, that kind of comment is the reason I tend to favor eating by myself, just so you know, Evans,” Frank tells him. It’s not supposed to be funny, but he laughs and somehow ropes Frank into talking to him and the interns gathered around — _working hard or hardly working, thank god it’s Friday, amirite_?

_What are you doing this weekend_, they ask each other — _there’s a new bar opening nearby, my mom’s birthday is tomorrow, I’ll just sleep and then sleep some more_ — and then Frank.

“What will you be doing this weekend?”

_Maybe a certain security manager_, a girl mock-whispers.

Frank’s face closes off.

“Don’t overstep,” he warns her, suddenly a lot less interested in his almost finished egg salad sandwich. “As _usual_, you seem to think you know a lot more than you actually do. And that goes for all of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He ends up tossing the rest of his sandwich and going for a smoke, which is how Adam finds him less than ten minutes later.

Frank takes one look at him, tosses his cigarette butt, shaking his head, and gets a new one from his pack.

“This is a bad idea, Jensen. _Terrible_.”

Adam snorts. “_Someone_ is in a mood.” Frank glares at him. Adam’s teasing grin is just the cherry on top of a very shitty sundae. “Enlighten me, Francis, _what_ exactly is a bad idea?”

Frank pulls one annoyed drag from his cigarette and, rolling his eyes, tells him, “Us sneaking out together, on top of arriving and leaving together.” He seems to think he’s stating a very obvious thing, with the way he’s sighing in annoyance. “The fucking gossips around this place. I was just asked if my weekend plans included _fucking_ you, as a matter of fact.”

It’s so vicious, the way he says it. _Fucking_. Adam meant to bum a smoke from him, but promptly forgets about it, face going oddly warm.

“I thought you didn’t care what people think,” he offers, pointedly looking away. The day is so bright, hot and dry as if trying to make up for the rain. It’s a good thing the sun can’t reach them.

“I _don’t_!” Frank seems to consider the very notion offensive. Adam doesn’t argue. Frank is halfway through his second cigarette when it occurs him to ask, “Did you need something?”

Adam raises an eyebrow. This Frank does not look like the same guy who cuddled him last night — yeah, _cuddling_. Adam’s kind of over lying to himself at this point. He had a nightmare, his least friendly coworker cuddled him back to sleep, and the first step is admitting you have a problem, right?

“Yeah, David wanted me to check with you if the bug got us access to the device of a certain Alain Pollock.”

Cigarette halfway to his mouth, Frank pauses, frowning.

“Where do I know that name from?”

Adam shrugs. “I know, right? It does sound familiar.”

“Yeah. It does. I might be wrong, though. Don’t tell anyone I said that,” Frank amends with a dry chuckle, humor that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Did the boss say what he wants with it?”

“He didn’t.” Adam slowly circles Frank around, inching closer, trying to get Frank to look at him. Frank doesn’t seem to notice. “Might be nothing.”

“Knowing David Sarif? It never is.”

Adam reaches into his pocket. “I also wanted to give you this.”

That gets him Frank’s attention. “A keycard?”

“It’s a copy of mine. I’m staying late today.” Frank stares at the keycard like it’s the first time he’s seeing one. “Just… in case you want to go ahead and go home after you’re done for the day.”

Go home.

_Home_.

It’s a good thing Frank considers Adam’s way with words disappointing at best, otherwise he might think he’s playing with him. He hesitates, though, thinking it might be weird, right? Being in Adam’s apartment without him there.

Suddenly, apropos of nothing, Adam says, “I don’t mind you staying.”

Frank narrows his eyes at him. “Where did that come from?”

“You had this face. I thought…”

Frank scoffs, indignation taking over as he puts two and two together. “That C.A.S.I.E aug of yours might need some calibration, Jensen.”

“That’s…” If that’s not the face of someone who’s just been caught red-handed, Frank doesn’t know what is. And _he_ doesn’t need C.A.S.I.E to recognize it. Fuck Adam, honestly. The guy knows exactly how to push his buttons even when he doesn’t intend to. “Sorry,” Adam lamely offers.

It’s too late, though. Frank’s shoulders are tense, his face carefully blank, eyes dark with barely contained anger. He puts his cigarette off more vigorously than necessary and says, “Tell you what, though. I won’t stay much longer. I need to get some stuff I left at your place, but I’ll book a motel or something. It’s for the best.”

That has Adam reaching out, one hand on Frank’s shoulder. “I meant it. I don’t mind you staying.” Frank doesn’t seem convinced. “I’d rather you stay with me.”

“Why?” Frank pulls away from Adam’s touch, stomach bubbling with irritation. “No, really. I don’t see a single way you’d benefit from the whole ordeal.”

It’s the bitterness in his words more so than the actual sarcasm dripping from them that has Adam rubbing both hands over his face in desperation.

“Oh, my God, why do you have to make everything so difficult? Just… indulge me? Just this once.”

“Oh, Jensen, believe me, I’ve done nothing but indulge you since the moment we met.” Adam’s too busy mouthing ‘what the fuck’ to himself while trying to make sense of what Frank meant to fully appreciate the hacker coming down from the mountain of annoyance he’s build up enough to casually ask, “Why are you staying late?”

“Paperwork,” Adam replies and he’s obviously lying, but Frank doesn’t even have the energy to call him out.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll come back and find I burned your apartment down?”

Adam snorts.

“I won’t be late,” he promises.

Frank rolls his eyes and pulls himself a third cigarette. He’ll quit, he promises himself. Eventually. “Sure you won’t.”

True to his word, Adam is not very late. Frank is already half asleep in bed when he gets home, but he’s relieved to see him all the same. Being alone in the apartment might be less weird than he anticipated, but it’s still pretty damn weird.

The mattress dips when Adam sits down next to him. “Frank?” Adam calls. “Are you awake?”

Frank’s reply is a muffled, “Yeah.”

“Listen…” The mattress shifts. Frank tries not to jump at the pressure of Adam’s hand on his shoulder. He’s careful, his touch light, insubstantial. Still, he might as well be shoving his tongue inside Frank’s mouth judging by how heavily Frank’s heart is beating. “I _want_ you to stay with me. For as long as you need. And want. At least until we’re done with whatever this whole thing is, all right?”

Frank swallows. He can feel his heartbeat into his throat. “All right,” he chokes out.

It might be for the best, he tells himself. They do have to work together, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all feedback and concrit is more than welcome <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> intermission // closeness

Adam doesn’t make a noise or anything, but Frank knows the _exact_ moment he wakes up. There’s a small change in his breathing, but not much else. Frank wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise, but Adam’s nose somehow ended buried in his hair during the night.

It feels odd but so _right_ to just know something like this about him.

At least they’re not _cuddling_ this time, Frank thinks as he pushes out of the bed with a groan, squinting against the blinding light coming in through the windows.

Seriously, how can a person _live_ like this?

Eyes still closed, Adam rolls to his own side of the bed and buries his face into a pillow, body rolling in a lazy stretch before settling like a graceless starfish. Frank faces away from the bed, very definitely not _staring_ at his companion.

“Why are you up? It’s Saturday.” Adam’s voice is muffled by the pillow.

“I have work to do,” Frank replies, going into the bathroom to start getting ready. A minute or two later, Adam appears in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. Frank rinses the toothpaste in the sink and glares at him over his shoulder. “_What_?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” Adam shrugs. “It’s _Saturday_.”

Frank thumbs his comb and thoughtfully eyes his hair in the mirror. He knew he shouldn’t have gone to bed while it was still wet. “I’m aware, Jensen. But I still have stuff I need to get done at the office,” he explains, voice a bit strained as he tries to get his hair to look right. He almost gives up and heads into the shower to wash it again, but ends up settling on a messier-than-usual ponytail. Adam is still at the door when he finishes, so he asks, “What time did you end up coming home, last night?”

Also, when did Adam’s apartment become _home_?

Adam is kind (or sleepy) enough not to comment on it.

“Almost midnight, I think.” The almost apologetic tone in his voice is unexpected. “I lost track of time.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself.” Even as he’s saying the words, Frank hears the lie. He’s almost thankful for Adam’s half-apology. Clearing his throat, he steps past Adam and into the bedroom with a quiet, “But I do need to come in today. You can go back to sleep, if you want.”

“No. No, I’ll come with you.” Frank busies himself rummaging through his bag for clean clothes while Adam casually strips off his pajamas and starts getting ready himself. “You’re not the only one who’s behind on stuff.”

Truth is, late as Adam’s been the night before, he didn’t actually get much done at work. He did start writing some reports and had just got around to doing some digging into Frank’s records, trying to get a sense of who might be behind the threats the hacker’s been getting, when Sarif called him up to his office. Adam didn’t have the time to _really_ go down that particular rabbit hole, but, still, he had an… _interesting_ night.

After some very good whiskey and Sarif’s usual cryptic requests and loose instructions, Adam had been more confused than anything else. At some point Sarif got caught up in a loop going on and on about individual freedom and Adam decided it was time to make his way home to sleep the alcohol off, but, boy, did he _have_ stuff to get done at work.

Mind full of spreadsheets and report forms, Adam manages not to put his work clothes on inside out and is halfway through his bowl of cereal when Frank joins him in the kitchen. The hacker looks around for a second and then asks, “Do you have any actual breakfast food?”

Adam is not surprised at Frank’s question, but the tone of his voice is different, like he’s genuinely intrigued, not only busting Adam’s balls. Adam nods towards his bowl of, now, mostly milk.

“Besides cereal,” Frank concedes.

“Cereal _is_ breakfast food,” Adam argues, but Frank doesn’t seem convinced. Adam is pretty sure the hacker already has a list of groceries in mind.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. That stuff is pure sugar. You might as well be eating M&M’s,” Frank tells him. The hacker gaze turns critical as he looks around the kitchen. He points a finger to the side, “Did you ever even use that toaster?”

“Once or twice,” Adam concedes, unconcerned about Frank’s judgement. “I try not to cook if I can avoid it.”

That earns him a smirk. “Yeah, I can see that.” It’s kind of hard to miss the cans of soup around the kitchen. Frank pours himself a cup of coffee and sips from it with a pleased glint in his eyes. “At least the coffee is decent.”

Adam snorts. “Glad I can be of use.”

-x-

It feels more like a sunny holiday than a Saturday morning. Coming to work, they walk past families with kids, young couples going out for brunch, so lively and luminous even the mostly empty building of Sarif Industries feels warmer. As they walk up the stairs — the escalator has been turned off for the weekend — Frank explains that he should work on the feed a bit. See what he can compile, and maybe they can even leave before lunch.

“I might be able to do the rest from your place if you don’t want to go home by yourself. I need to eat something that doesn’t come in a cardboard or styrofoam box, though, if you’ll indulge me,” Frank goes on as he sets up camp at Adam’s desk and gets the feed up for them to browse through. Adam sits at the workstation beside him and just blinks at him a couple times.

“Do you want to… go out?”

It’s the phrasing more than anything else that makes Frank pause. Voice carefully casual, he suggests, “I thought I’d cook. You do have a functional kitchen. You do have utensils right?”

Adam relaxes a bit. “Some pots and pans. I might even have a chef’s knife stuffed somewhere.”

Frank leans back on his chair, a lazy smirk on his lips. He doesn’t look half-bad under this light, Adam thinks. “Aren’t you full of surprises?” he teases.

Adam winks. “I know. I’m a _catch_.”

Frank’s laugh is this dry, tired thing, but Adam likes it so much. Too much. Then someone else is laughing too and Adam realizes the sound is coming from the computer — more specifically, from their doll’s feed.

Giggling. Faint voices — two, actually.

Frank turns it up.

“_It’s just a pinprick_,” a woman is saying. Adam leans forward as if trying to hear better even though his hearing is pretty much flawless since his augmentation. The movement does bring him right into Frank’s space, though.

Frank doesn’t pull away.

“_Can’t we skip it today_?” the young girl, owner of the doll, asks in a tiny voice. Frank lets go of the mouse, fingers trembling.

“_You know we can’t, baby_,” the woman replies. _A nurse?,_ Frank mouths to Adam, who nods. Probably.

“_Can I have my doll then_?”

“_There_,” the nurse coos. “_Now, give me your arm and look at the doll. She’s so beautiful. What’s her name again?_”

“_Pam!_” the little girls voice is suddenly a lot clearer. Frank doesn’t turn the volume back down, though.

“_Now,_ _that’s such a beautiful name. Now, look at her for me. Focus only on her. Those big blue eyes, those curls_.” A whine of pain, small and tired. “_There. There. It’s done_.”

Frank is staring at the feed, unblinking eyes reflecting the pale light from the monitor. He barely seems to be breathing. Adam clenches his teeth and forces himself to look away.

“_Where are you going?_” the girl suddenly asks. She sounds… _terrified_, all of a sudden.

“_I have to take this…_” the nurse begins to explain and then pauses. “_Oh, no, what is it, sweetie?_”

“_I… it’s just…_” there’s a catch in her voice, weak, as she tries to make herself braver. “_Can I ask you a question?_”

Bedsheets rustle. “_… Sure_.”

“_Do you promise to tell me the truth?_”

“_Okay._” The air around Adam’s office goes eerily still, a silence that resonates in their bones. “_What do you want to know?_”

Adam braces, but he’s still not ready for what the girl asks.

“_Does it hurt to die?_”

The sound of Frank’s sharp intake of breath is what flips the switch for Adam.

“Turn it off,” he tells the hacker. “Come on, Frank. Turn this shit off.”

“All right, it’s off.” Frank’s voice is tight and as soon as the computer is muted, he stands up and squeezes behind Adam to walk up to the glass wall on the far end of Adam’s office, looking down onto the empty lobby.

Adam tries to swallow, but he feels like there’s a golf ball stuck inside his throat. How terrible a person is he for being a part of this?

“I should have never agreed to do it.” Frank sounds like he’s talking to himself, his voice strangled. Adam replies nevertheless.

“It’s not your fault.” He stands up and slowly makes his way to Frank, fully aware that he might as well be talking to the walls. “You know how it is. The boss, and all.”

Adam doesn’t believe for a second that Frank knew what they would be getting into with this little… _project_.

The shiver that runs down Frank’s back when Adam touches his shoulder is visible. The hacker turns around like he can’t help it, his eyes a bit red, but dry.

Frank doesn’t look up. Adam can’t look away, reading into Frank’s carefully guarded face like an open book. Or a mirror, because Adam’s familiar with the messy tangle of emotions he sees in Frank, their fucked up relationship, their fucked up jobs — all in the tense crease between his eyebrows, the darkness in his gaze.

Adam moves before he can think better of it. Tucks a stray lock of hair behind Frank’s ear, tip of his index finger tracing the curve of his ear, oddly cold.

Frank inhales sharply at the touch.

“Don’t.” It’s a warning more than a request even though Frank’s posture is nothing but inviting, gravitating towards Adam with his whole body.

“I’m not doing anything,” Adam tells him. He pulls his hand away and presses the open palm against the glass wall next to Frank’s head, leans on it with his full weight, crowding as close as he dare. It’s very tempting to just let himself sink into the warmth of Frank’s body.

Adam holds his breath.

If it were a regular workday, a small crowd would probably have already gathered at the lobby by now.

“You know _exactly_ what you’re doing.” Frank’s words are of censure, but he resists very little when Adam wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him in nice and tight, almost too tight.

“_What_ is it I’m doing, then?” Adam is unapologetic, a smirk on his lips.

Frank wants to taste the shape of his words.

“What you’re _doing_ is making my life extremely hard, for a change.” Frank’s right hand is limp by his side, but his left rests on Adam’s chest, right under his collarbone, not pushing him away, but not really pulling him closer either. “We can’t do this.”

Adam inhales. They’re so close he can smell his soap on Frank’s skin, Frank’s deodorant, the coffee on his breath. He knows Frank is right. He knows it, but still…

It’s like Frank can read Adam’s mind, because just as he’s about to lean that last inch in, Frank says, “Don’t kiss me.”

“I won’t,” Adam replies. And he doesn’t. Not exactly. Their lips do brush at an angle when Adam leans his head to the side, beard and stubble scratching as their cheeks rub together. Adam breathes against Frank’s ear, lips grazing it, just barely. Just enough. “I’m not kissing you.”

He doesn’t need to, their hesitant embrace so much more intimate than most kisses Adam’s had. Frank relaxes a bit further and Adam almost sinks into the comforting warmth of his body, the hacker’s stuttered breathing the only audible sign of how affected he is by Adam’s proximity.

“Thank you,” Frank says, voice barely above a whisper. Adam can’t help but nuzzle into his neck, inhaling the same scent he smelled before — coffee, deodorant, soap — and something sweeter, headier right underneath. The hand on Adam’s chest presses with a warning, but Frank’s voice is torn as he breathes, “Adam.”

“Not… kissing you,” Adam repeats, mouth fitting into the curve angle right below Frank’s ear. He wants to drag his tongue over the soft skin there, pull the tender lobe between his teeth, but he doesn’t. He does press his nose to Frank’s throat, though, and asks, “Do you still have much to do?”

Frank’s fingers clutch at the fabric of Adam’s shirt. “I can finish from home.”

There’s that _goddamned_ word again.

“You should step back,” Frank reiterates even as his arm wraps around Adam.

“I know,” Adam replies. “I don’t want to.”

How could Adam when Frank’s closeness manages to erase the darkness from every corner of his mind? Frank’s fingers clutch at Adam’s shirt, on his lower back. Adam groans low inside his throat as Frank argues. “You have to. Come on, Adam.” Slowly, very slowly, Frank lets go of him. “Let’s not do this now.”

‘Let’s not do this now’ actually led Adam to think that they would at least _talk_ about it (whatever _it_ is) later, but later never actually comes. Before leaving the building, they manage to compile enough data to keep them busy for the next week or so. Adam even suggests stopping by a minimarket on the way home, but Frank dismisses him with nothing more than a shake of his head. Much to the hacker’s chagrin, they end up eating both lunch and dinner out of cardboard boxes — mushroom and peperoni pizzas that they heat up so many times during the day while walking on eggshells around each other that the food ends up less appealing than the boxes it came in.

At around ten, Adam announces he’s all for getting ‘this shit’ over and done with, but he refuses to work any later on a Saturday. Or to allow Frank to do that to himself, for that matter, which Frank might as well go along with since he’s about to go cross-eyed from staring too long into his computer screen. They do find some incriminating material they’ll have to go through with their boss, but nothing really urgent, just extremely awful stuff — a painful tangle of hope, fear, medically inaccurate jargon and empty comforts.

They’re both tired enough that it’s not too awkward, getting in bed together. Frank doesn’t even remember falling asleep, but he remembers reaching for Adam’s hand and finding it hesitantly searching for his. Remembers the tips of Adam’s fingers tracing the lines and angles of his hand as if trying to memorize it.

He wakes up less than an hour later to his cellphone buzzing with a message from an unfamiliar number, too few digits for it to be real.

No text on it. Only an image file.

A photograph.

The busy Saturday morning they walked through on their way to work, Detroit oddly bright. Frank standing beside a grumpy Adam’s as they wait for a traffic light to turn red so they can cross a street two blocks away from Adam’s apartment.

Frank stares at the screen in disbelief, free hand covering his mouth in an attempt to muffle his shaky exhale, _fuck_…

“Let me see it.” Frank startles at Adam’s quiet request, his raspy voice pitched low with sleep and more than mildly annoyance. Of course Adam is a light sleeper. Just Frank’s luck. He hands Adam the device and watches as comprehension dawns on his somber face. Handing the phone back, Adam tells Frank, “We might have to the disclose that.”

Frank nods unhappily. “I know.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is very domestic and self-indulgent  
grocery shopping and kissing ahead

Adam wakes up warm and content in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. Oddly comfortable, too, considering he’s not lying in a particularly comfortable position with Frank’s back tucked tightly against his chest, his right arm trapped under the warm weight of the hacker’s sleeping form and a stranded pillow positioned at just the right position to arch his neck uncomfortably backwards.

Frank, on the other hand, wakes up with panic rushing through him and instantly moves away from Adam.

Or _tries_ to.

As soon as Adam feels Frank pull away, he wraps both arms around the hacker’s middle and pulls him back, pressing against him from shoulders to knees. He doesn’t grind up against Frank or anything, but Frank can still very _distinctly_ feel the shape him.

“Let _go_ of me, Jensen,” Frank snarls. Adam doesn’t budge. “Jensen!”

“No way. It’s Sunday. You are _not_ getting up, _Francis_.”

Frank groans, “What the _fuck_, Adam?”

“_Now_ I’m Adam?” The other shoots back, almost no sound in his grumpy whisper. “Don’t you _dare_ move. You get up, _I_’ll end up getting up too. And I _refuse_ to get up before ten on a Sunday.”

Frank sighs in defeat. “It’s too bright,” he complains, body gone deceitfully limp in Adam’s arms. Adam doesn’t let go of him just yet.

“Come here, then,” Adam grunts, maneuvering Frank until the hacker’s face is tucked against his chest, his eyes shielded from the light coming in through the windows. “There,” he murmurs. The mildly inconvenienced rasp in his voice contradicts the fingers idly combing through Frank’s hair as they settle more comfortably against each other.

For a second, Frank wonders if Adam’s even awake, considering how he is apparently perfectly content to be used as a pillow. Face buried into Adam’s shirt, Frank inhales the sleepy scent of him, lets it settle inside his chest like a curse and, together, they nod off until the familiar sound of a phone vibrating wakes them up a few hours later. _Adam’s_ phone, Frank realizes, trying to calm the thick panic rising inside his chest, the memories from the previous night and that picture he received still too fresh.

Adam sees right through him. “It’s just an email,” he explains, switching off the phone screen and throwing the device onto the unmade bed with a soft sound. “I have to update my passwords.”

Adam doesn’t _have_ to explain himself, but his words are still welcome. Frank relaxes a bit, still refusing to meet Adam’s eyes.

Adam does seem to deem it a more appropriate hour to get up, though, because he doesn’t protest and even follows Frank into the bathroom when the hacker decides to go brush his teeth.

He is debating whether to make coffee or go out for lunch in an hour or so when Frank announces, “Alright, Jensen. I have _indulged_ you. Now I expect reciprocation and I hope you’re feeling well-rested, because you and I? Are going to get some actual food from that market I saw around the corner.”

Adam blinks at him for a few seconds and then smirks. “What? You need supervision?”

Frank eyes him sideways and, lips twitching, offers, “Wouldn’t mind some help carrying the bags, since I’m pretty sure I’ll be doing all the cooking later on. You just happen to be the one with the bionic arms and superhuman strength, Jensen.”

Adam actually snorts at that. “Oh, is that a _joke_, Francis?” he teases. “By all means, let me get dressed and we’ll go.”

The late morning sun is uncomfortably warm as they walk to the nearest market. Frank keeps trying to stick to the shadows for more than one reason, though. He doesn’t miss the way people keep turning their heads as they walk by — a boy pulling his father’s hand, pointing at Adam, a group of teenage girls near the shopping carts furiously whispering to each as they walk into the store.

Frank might have glared at them a bit.

“Don’t mind them,” Adam tells him. He gets them a shopping basket and adds, “Doesn’t bother me anymore. All the staring.”

It’s very obviously a lie. Frank doesn’t bother calling him out on it.

“So. What’s the plan here?” Adam asks.

Frank hesitates. He doesn’t have a plan, really, just a general idea of what could achieve the most satisfaction with the least amount of conservatives and overly processed goods. “Do you like lasagna?”

Adam’s face lights up at that. “Oh, I could _kiss_ you, Francis!”

“Like we’re not getting enough of everyone’s attention as it is,” Frank deadpans, but his eyes are soft.

Frank leads them around the store. Adam carries the basket. They settle on mushroom lasagna and wine. Some fruit for dessert. When it comes to actually cooking, as Frank anticipated, Adam is not much help, but he sticks around the kitchen, sipping his wine, kicking back at Frank’s half-hearted provocations. Eventually, Adam nods towards where Frank is skillfully slicing up a bunch of Portobello mushrooms and asks, “Where did you learn that?”

Frank pauses, but doesn’t look up.

“My parents, they…” He resumes his slicing, a bit more slowly. “Actually, everyone in my family cooked a bit, growing up. I just sort of… learned a couple of things here and there.”

It’s not much, but it’s a lot more than Frank’s used to sharing about himself. When Adam asks more questions, Frank goes on about his family. His memories, his past. Adam recognizes a name or two from the few times he’s had a look at Frank’s employer file, everything he knew up until this moment nothing but data. Numbers. Dates. Who died where. Who graduated when. The street they lived on from 2007 to 2012.

Only when Frank’s shares his tales of skipping class and dismantling the family computer just for kicks, though, does Adam feel like he’s really seeing Frank, the real Frank. If gives him an odd sense of awe, this being allowed a glimpse into such a carefully guarded person.

The smell of onions and tomatoes cooking slowly fills up the kitchen and very soon the lasagna is in the oven, they’re a couple of glasses into their wine and Adam finds himself asking, “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

If feels like the sort of thing people do on a Sunday afternoon. He can’t remember the last time he’s done that with someone, though, his Sundays lately usually spent either trying not to think of everything he’s got on his plate or thinking too much.

“Actually, I was…” Frank begins, but the amusement in Adam’s gaze makes him pause. There’s not actual resistance in his next words, “I was actually thinking of getting some _work_ done.”

Adam snorts. “Workaholic. I shouldn’t be surprised.” He glances over his shoulder as Frank follows him into the living room. “Are you good with sci-fi?”

Frank can barely conceal his interest. “What do you have?”

Adam turns on the TV and, after fiddling with his folders a bit, hands Frank the remote control with a soft, “Take your pick.”

-x-

It turns out that Frank can get pretty invested in movies with interplanetary wars and extremely outdated visual and sound effects. The food is ready by the time they manage to pick something to watch. They eat and talk over the first half of the movie. Well, _Adam_ talks, mostly. Punctual comments in between small sips of wine, voice muffled as if not expecting Frank to listen to him. Frank doesn’t mind. He’s seen that particular movie enough times, he says at a certain point. He knows it by heart.

Adam picks the second movie. Day turns into night, which turns into slices of melon and then tumblers of whiskey and a _third_ movie. Which turns into Frank falling asleep with his head on the arm of the couch, pale line of his neck stretched long and inviting.

With some effort, Adam tears his eyes away from Frank. He gets up without pausing the movie and starts picking up the glasses they used, the dirty paper napkins and melon rinds. He takes everything back into the kitchen and tells himself he’ll clean up in the morning. He’s not very convincing, though, and a minute or so later he’s scrapping dried-up tomatoes off the lasagna pan.

Lasagna is always a nightmare to wash off.

Adam’s thoughts keep drifting to Frank — on his couch, in his space. Oh, he’d been a fool to think he could just let him into his life like this without something terrible happening. And the worst part is that sure as Adam is that this will end up in flames, he still _craves_ it. The only thing keeping him from just dragging Frank down this path with him is the hacker’s own resistance, which Adam can see crumbling before his very eyes.

Credits are rolling up the screen by the time Adam finishes tidying up, but he ignores the TV in favor of crouching down next to Frank and carefully shaking him awake.

Despite Adam’s best intentions, Frank startles awake, sitting up abruptly with a low, “I feel _asleep_?” Adam shrugs. Frank squints at the TV. “Sorry.”

Adam looks away, lips twitching. “It’s okay.”

It’s _more_ than okay. They’re close enough that Adam can feel the heat radiating from Frank, sleep-soft and so inviting Adam finds himself moving closer before he stops himself. He wants to _chase_ that warmth, hide away inside it, make it so that Sunday lasts forever.

When instead of pulling away Frank leans forward, Adam involuntarily utters a strangled, cautioning, “Frank…”

If it’s a warning or a plea, Adam can’t tell. It hardly matters against the reality of Frank’s mouth, sour from too much wine, but soft and warm as he kisses Adam once, lightly, and pulls away a second later. Pausing. The only light in the room comes from the credits still moving up the TV screen, the only sound their stuttered breathing, their pounding hearts.

One more time, Frank kisses Adam. A bit more deeply, more slowly. And then once again, and again, and again, gaining momentum. Adam lets himself be pulled onto the couch, half-sitting, half-lying on top of Frank. Lets himself be kissed — lovingly, experimentally, Frank’s lashes fluttering against Adam’s cheek, his tongue a tease.

Frank’s cheeks are flushed when they part. Adam cups Frank’s face in one hand and holds himself up with the other. Whispers, “Told you I could kiss you.”

He sounds completely out of breath. Frank chuckles darkly, but leans into Adam’s touch. His lips brush the palm of Adam’s hand, pale pink against black, as he replies, “But you didn’t kiss me. _I_ kissed _you_.”

It’s almost a challenge, the way he says it. With a disapproving _tsk_, Adam presses Frank down onto the couch, intent on showing him who exactly is kissing whom here.

Truth is, Adam can’t really tell how long he’s been wanting to do this — a kiss such a long time coming, it seems, so _right_ he’s lightheaded. Frank relaxes into the couch, hands burying into Adam’s hair. Sweet desperation in every lingering caress like they’ll never get a second chance at this.

Adam bites down on Frank’s lower lip at some point, answers Frank’s groan with a rumble of his own. He soothes the sting of the bite with his tongue and Frank moans, arching up. Adam wants to hear more, so he pulls Frank’s lip between his teeth until the moan muffled into his mouth is more pained than pleased.

Adam never saw this coming, but now that Frank is right where he wants him? He can’t stop himself.

“Fuck. Come to bed with me.”

Frank sounds pained when he replies with a breathy, “We can’t.”

Frank doesn’t push Adam away. And Adam _knows_ that they can’t. That they shouldn’t. He just doesn’t really care. Still, he finds himself whispering a promise against Frank’s lips. “We don’t have to. We won’t.” His voice carries a certainty he definitely doesn’t feel. “Come to bed, though. The couch is not… suitable… for sleeping.”

The bed is a far more dangerous place, however. Frank knows. He nods, though, throat too tight to voice his agreement. He wraps his arms around Adam’s neck, Adam’s hands on his hips leading their stumbling kisses into the bedroom. Adam backs them up against the bed, sits down and pulls Frank onto his lap while sucking the hacker’s clever tongue into his mouth. Frank moans and Adam’s runs his hands up Frank’s thighs, eager, reaching for his fly.

“Adam…” Frank’s warning is a bit too breathless to be effective.

“What? You can’t possibly sleep in these clothes,” Adam says as he thumbs the button open. Shameless is what he is, smirking as he traces the line of Frank’s erection with his fingertips before slowly pulling his zipper down. He doesn’t reach for Frank’s dick, though. Instead, he shoves his hand under Frank’s sweater, tickles the sharp angle of his ribs. “Oh, we do have to feed you better, Frank. You’re so thin.”

“Stop that,” Frank chastises him, but allows Adam to help him undress. Adam tosses Frank’s sweater and shirt to the side, not caring where. Can’t take his eyes off the pale softness of Frank’s skin.

Frank’s face goes a bit warm under Adam’s attentive gaze. He huffs out an amused breath and nods towards Adam’s still-clothed chest. “Your turn.”

Adam pushes Frank to the side, onto the mattress, an unfamiliarly playful grin on his lips. He efficiently strips down to his underwear.

Frank’s mouth goes very dry. Suddenly he feels like they’re standing too close to something too big.

Adam helps Frank out of his pants and then crawls on top of him with cat-like grace. It’s mostly bravado, though, as he is almost unable to fully grasp what is happening. There’s so much they should talk about, he knows, but so much more he’d rather use his mouth for at the moment.

His worries vanish as Frank pulls him into a kiss that is still hesitant but loving despite how achingly hard they both are, groins pressed together as their legs tangle. Adam sighs into the kiss and carefully pushes Frank’s hair back away from his face. He runs his fingertips across the sharp lines of the hacker’s jaw, kisses him back slow and deep for what feels like hours — until Frank’s lips are _tingling_, eyelids heavy, chest pulled tight with bright warm light, about to burst right there against Adam’s warm, smooth skin.

Frank blinks slowly as their kiss slows to a crawl and Adam pulls away. Those lips are trouble, Frank realizes as Adam drags them against his cheek, kissing the flushed skin and then Frank’s closed eyelids, the arch of his eyebrows, the shell his ear, and whispers, “Good night, Frank. Sleep well.”

Frank does.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bitter morning after.

The broken mirror in Adam’s bathroom is at once a relief for not having to face himself in the morning and a bitter reminder of the extremes the unbearable vision of his irreversibly modified body took him to. Adam avoids looking at it as he brushes his teeth, showers, pointedly ignoring the unsatisfied ache of arousal between his legs. He’s apprehensive despite the excited glint of light inside his chest. There’s something, _something_ in the Monday morning that doesn’t fit quite right with his memories of the previous night, when he kissed Frank Pritchard.

No, scratch that.

When he kissed the _life_ out of Pritchard.

Truth is, even with his stomach tied up in knots, the only thing on Adam’s mind when he walks out of the steam filled bathroom is getting to those lips again, but that possibility seems very distant with the solemn way Frank is sitting on the edge of the bed.

Frank looks up with a softly guarded expression when Adam gets closer and pats the mattress next to him. Adam’s stomach sinks as he takes a seat.

“Is everything okay?” Adam asks, perfectly aware that the answer is ‘no’.

“Yeah,” Frank lies. He swallows thickly and looks away, throat working around words that don’t come. Adam looks away too. Can’t stand the sight of Frank sitting right there, so close and yet so distant. It’s an oddly bright morning for such a grave start. “What happened last night…”

He trails off. Some part of Adam feels like they’re still there, endlessly lazy Sunday stretching, reaching beyond its limits, bleeding into Monday.

“Yeah,” he grunts, throat tight.

“_That_ can’t happen again.” Frank doesn’t look happy about what he’s saying.

Adam is not surprised. Not really. Still, he uselessly tries to argue, “It’s not like we’re hurting anyone.”

They might hurt each other, though. Might go down in flames. As far as Adam’s concerned, though, it’s worth the risk.

“Yet.” Frank’s eyes are downcast. If he doesn’t look at Adam, they might be able to get through this part. “We can’t go down that path, Adam.”

“You’re the one who’s saying that.” Adam can’t help it. He’s angry. If Pritchard is not even willing to give them a fighting chance, he might have really misread the whole thing.

“Yeah,” Frank replies, traces of his usual petulance lingering in his words. “_Someone_ has to be the voice of reason.”

Adam just _looks_ at him for a long moment. In nothing but his underwear, under the cold light of morning, Frank looks fragile, almost breakable, pale and so defeated Adam wants nothing more than to reach for him. Stroke his arm. Hold his hand. He’s done more than his fair share of reaching for the time being, however. Instead, he gathers what’s left his pride and moves away. Stands up. “Whatever,” he morosely replies, shaking his head.

He finishes getting dressed in silence. Frank doesn’t move from the bed.

“I’ll book a hotel room for tonight,” he eventually says. He sounds _wrong_, voice small and confused. “Thanks for letting me stay this long.”

Adam grits his teeth. “Don’t do that. We’ve been through that, already.” He tries to sound genuine even though his chest feels heavy and sore. “Stay. I _want_ you to stay. I won’t… overstep. It’s just… I’d be… more comfortable if you stayed with me.”

Adam doesn’t even want to _think_ about Frank out of his reach, by himself, god knows where. His reasons might not be entirely noble, but his words get Frank’s attention. He arches an eyebrow at Adam, suddenly a lot more alert.

No, more than alert. _Suspicious_.

“Do you know something I don’t?” Adam doesn’t reply. Frank stands up from the bed, arms crossed over his bare chest. Adam tries not to watch him too obviously. He didn’t expect Frank to be this comfortable in his state of undress, but he supposes they’ve been around each other long enough for it to not matter as much. “Fine. I’ll stay. I’ll take the couch, though. You shouldn’t have to give up your own bed,” Frank concedes after some consideration. Adam thinks he’s headed for the bathroom to get ready himself, but Frank actually walks towards him, offering his hand with a quiet, “Friends?”

Adam hesitates, taken by surprise, but shakes Frank’s hand even though he struggles to keep the bitterness off his voice when he replies with a raspy, “Sure, Pritchard.”

-x-

They fall into a comfortable routine during the next few days. Frank takes the couch, Adam takes the bed. Adam showers first in the morning then gets the coffee going. Frank sometimes cooks. Adam usually cleans up, but he woke up once or twice to his living room and kitchen unusually tidy. They go to work together, check in with each other about intel during the day, about reports, and leave together when they’re done.

It’s almost domestic. Too comfortable. Too good to last much longer.

On Thursday afternoon, there’s a breach in one of their servers. When the clock hits 9 p.m., Frank tells Adam to just go ahead and go home without him. He’ll have to stay the night. There’s no way he’ll be done before they lock up the office for the day.

Adam wants to stay, tries to argue, but the thing is: people are _talking_. Nothing Frank’s never heard before, but it’s like everyone can see something’s different, like they have these big signs written ‘we kissed’ on their backs.

“No, you go ahead,” Frank tells Adam. “I could use some space, to be honest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

And, well, _that_’s a message Adam gets. He’ll give Frank his _space_, all right.

-x-

It’s almost _weird_, being home without Frank after so long. For someone who doesn’t usually allow himself to get very close to other people, Adam sure got comfortable with Frank hanging around him, and quickly too.

On his way home, Adam buys a six-pack. He finishes every beer before midnight while he digs information on the woman Frank suspected was behind the threats. It takes him a good while and a few favors from old friends, but he finds that the woman Frank told him about could hardly be making threatening calls in the middle of the night given that a person usually has to be _alive_ in order to call someone.

He wonders if Frank has that information and is about to ping his Infolink when he remembers.

_Space_.

He _should_ call, though, right? Frank is working on Sarif security, their data, their servers. It’s almost professional courtesy, calling him.

On the other hand, Adam is also alone at home for the first time in a while, half a dozen beers into a very nice buzz and in dire need of a hot shower. Besides, Frank would have called if he needed him.

Smirking to himself, Adam disconnects his computer and, after a half-second hesitation, brings his Infolink offline as well, ready for some _much_ needed alone-time.

-x-

“You’re going to _die_,” the voice on Frank’s phone tells him. He picked it up without thinking. Thought it might be Adam. He half-expected Adam to check in on him before going to bed. Adam wouldn’t call him on the telephone when they have the Infolink, though. Pritchard is an idiot. The phone is even on speaker, for Christ’s sake, echoing around the empty tech lab. “You’re going to die alone and in a whole lot of pain. You’re going to drown in your own blood, you piece of _shit_.”

The way they spit the words has Frank choking on his own breath, the voice distorted, almost robotic.

“You’ll regret the games you’re playing,” the voice on the phone says. Frank doesn’t reply. He doesn’t usually reply. It’s no use. He’ll just get upset. He’ll just make an ass of himself, stuttering, terrified.

He hangs up the call with a shaky flick of his index finger. When he opens his call history, there’s no record of any received calls.

Frank looks around himself at the empty lab. Most lights are off, so the room is illuminated only by the glow of his computer screen and the emergency lights out in the hallway. He’s got a few of Sarif’s techs connected to the main server, working remotely, monitoring, but he’s one of the last people in the building other than the security detail. At least the breach has already been plugged. It’s a bit after one, now, and he’s at once bone-tired and restlessly anxious.

And alone, most importantly, which is the reason he’ll use when he tries to justify himself later on, because the first thing he does after he disconnects the call is ping Adam’s Infolink, tries to reach him almost automatically.

When he can’t get a hold of Adam right away, Frank tells himself that Adam’s probably asleep already, like a reasonable person. They do not live reasonable lives, though, so Frank tries Adam’s phone next. It rings, and rings, and rings, and goes to mother_fucking_ voicemail.

“Fuck this,” Frank groans.

And, well, it’s understandable. It is one in the fucking morning, after all. Adam _is_ asleep, Frank repeats to himself, even though his mind is already jumping to horrible scenarios — the following morning, Adam not showing up to work. Still not answering his phone, his Infolink offline. Frank going to check the apartment and finding the front door left open as if to announce something terrible.

Frank is out of his lab and rushing down the stairs of the lobby before he can think better of it. He’s not thinking, not really, running on fumes, on nervous energy. When he approaches the front doors, a security guard steps in front of him, raising a hand.

“Whoa, hold on, you can’t leave,” the guard speaks. Jones, the nametag reads. Frank frowns.

“What do you mean, I _can’t_ leave?”

“Security protocol. Nobody gets in or out of the building.” Jones is polite enough, but doesn’t sound very patient. Pritchard’s frown deepens. “You know, because of the… the breach.”

“Yeah, I know _all_ about the breach.” Frank rubs a hand over his face. Damned protocols. Jensen projected the fucking thing, even got Frank to agree on it. In case of security breach, the building goes on lockdown overnight. “Fuck. _When_ can I leave?”

“At six.” Frank groans, takes a step back, scratching his head. He’s trying to figure out what to do. Can he take a page of Adam’s book and sneak out of the building without getting caught? Probably. Is it worth risking an internal investigation with his history? Hardly. “Are you all right, sir?”

Frank wants to _punch_ something. “No, it’s fine. It’s… not your fault.” He takes a step backwards, towards the stairs, and offers a frustrated, “I’ll… come back in five hours or so.”

“All right.”

Jones doesn’t look convinced.

The text Frank shoots Adam as he heads back upstairs is riddled with typos. He uses the words ‘freaking out’ and ‘wrongness’ and tries calling him again. And again. And _again_. He could, of course, try and force Adam’s Infolink online, but he’ll probably make such a mess along the way it’s not even worth it.

It’s almost two when Frank leaves one last voice mail.

“Listen, I’m sorry about the avalanche of messages, but I’m starting to get seriously worried.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but it sounds like thunder clapping in the dark and quiet tech lab. “Call me as soon as you get this, please. I’ll wait a bit. Just a bit. And then I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. I _hope_ you’re asleep, Jensen. I hope… fuck, I _hope_ I’m worrying over nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then: it takes me four. fucking. months to update. I'm so sorry. This story is completely planned out already, though, so don't worry because it will not be abandoned. Look, I even updated the number of chapters! We'll wrap up at 12, I reckon. Meanwhile, this whole pandemic has really put a damper on my creativity. I've been working like crazy, but from home. Safe. I also moved apartments. Again. So, life's crazy, but it's alright, so far.   
Hope you are all safe and sound wherever you are. And, well, this chapter left a bitter taste in my mouth. Here's hoping for more frequent updates (I'm hoping to finish this piece within this month or so) and more uplifting chapters, yeah?  
Love you all! Take care <3 stay safe!
> 
> PS: let me know if i messed up in grammar or something, pretty please? really appreciate all feedback!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank gets a hold of Adam. So does David Sarif.

“And who you’re supposed to be, again?”

The woman on the phone is not nice or anything, but she’s not abrasive either. Just tired, really. Still, Frank softens his voice as much as he can to explain, “I’m his boyfriend. You see, he was supposed to contact me a while ago, but hasn’t. And now I can’t reach him. And I’m… I’m really worried here. I can’t come over and I think… I think something _bad_ might have happened. D-do you think you could, I don’t know, reach him for me?”

She doesn’t reply, but Frank hears movement. He waits, chewing on his lips, breathing shallowly until, “I’m sorry, but he’s not answering his intercom. I’m afraid there’s nothing I-”

“Listen here, now.” Too blunt. Too angry. He tries again, “_Please_.” Clears his throat. “I am about to call the police, here.”

She’s the Chiron Building manager. She won’t want the police coming over in the middle of the night.

“I suppose I could ring his doorbell.” She sounds like she’s talking to herself, frustrated at having to go up to Adam’s apartment before she’s even begun to move. “This is highly irregular, though. What did you say your name was?”

“Frank.” Frank stands up from his desk. Starts pacing around, cellphone pressed to his ear. “Thank you, thank you. Should I call back?”

“Just stay on the line. I’m waiting for the elevator.”

-x-

Adam is still warm from the shower when he answers the door. Talking to ter Horst is never a particularly pleasant experience, but it’s so much more awkward than normal tonight — as soon as she leaves, Adam reaches Frank in his Infolink with a very confused, “What the fuck, Pritchard?”

Pritchard chuckles, but comes out as this shaky, raspy thing. “Well, if you didn’t want people knocking on your door in the middle of the night, you should pick up your fucking phone,” he replies, barely able to hide the hysterical relief that floods him when he hears Adam’s grumpy voice. “We _are_ in the middle of a security crisis at the moment, you know.”

Adam pauses, his initial annoyance so quickly overcome he almost wishes he didn’t like the tech so much.

“Are you alright?” He ends up asking. “Is everything… okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I mean…” Pritchard takes a deep breath. Exhales. He can feel every knot of tension on his shoulders and back. “Whoever tried to break into our servers? They left a trail, which I will analyze tomorrow. For the time being, though, the hole has been plugged. All is well.”

“Okay. So…” Adam walks around his apartment, turning off the lights, and then heads into the bedroom. “Why did you need me?”

“I was… I was just checking in before going to sleep,” Frank half-lies, hoping Adam can’t hear how vulnerable he feels. “But then you didn’t answer, and I started getting worried, you know.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

Adam doesn’t sound sorry at all. Frank starts getting suspicious.

“_Why_ didn’t you answer, though, Jensen?”

Adam groans.

He really doesn’t want to answer that, but Frank is getting annoyed and when he gets annoyed, he gets pushy, “No, seriously. _Why_? Why would you not pick up your phone and leave me here to drive myself crazy worrying something serious happened?”

It’s the tone more than anything else that makes Adam snap.

“I was _jerking off_, Francis. Are you happy now? Can’t a guy and his boner spend some quality time together without the world ending?”

The silence that follows could be cut with a knife.

The thing is, Adam might have lost himself a bit in his… _activities_. Lost track of time, definitely, lying in the bed he shared with Francis a week ago, remembering what it had been like to touch him Sunday night. The thought of never being able to touch Frank like that again hurt, but Adam smothered that under the pleasure conjured by his memories of what Frank sounds like when aroused, how dark his eyes get, how easily his skin flushes.

“Oh,” Frank utters after a while. “Well, I suppose…”

“Or you want details?” Adam interrupts him. “Should I submit a complete report? Do you want to know which hand I used? What brand of lube?”

“No, that’s…” Frank hisses. Adam has to repress a snicker. Frank’s just too easy to tease. “That’s quite all right.”

Adam smirks to himself as he lies down on his bed, pulling the covers up to his stomach.

“By the way,” Adam begins and by the tone of his voice Frank just _knows_ he’s not going to like what comes next. “Why does ter Horst think you’re my _boyfriend_?”

The way he says the word ‘boyfriend’, like he’s talking about the funniest thing ever, has Frank rolling his eyes. “Sorry about that,” he groans. “I thought it would make the building manager more… _willing_ to help me.”

“That’s was… smart.” Adam actually sounds impressed as he stretches, trying to hold back a yawn.

“Oh, you flatter me,” Frank scoffs. “Are you in bed? I should let you sleep.”

“Well, I _was_ about to go to sleep, but then someone rang my doorbell.” Frank sighs in resignation. He’ll never live that down. “_You_ should get some sleep, though. Get off that computer of yours.”

“Oh, I appreciate your concern, Jensen, I really do, but I’m way ahead of you, there.” Frank kicks his shoes off, lies back and rests his feet on the back of the couch. “I kind of miss your couch, though. The one in the lab is terrible, let me tell you. My back is already killing me.”

Adam wonders if the exhaustion, the stress, is what’s making Frank this talkative. He decides it doesn’t matter, anyway. He rather likes it. It’s tempting, is what it is. He can’t help but flirt a bit. “Well, that’s where I’d offer you a nice backrub, but I was under the impression you were in need of some _space_.”

The tinge of bitterness in Adam’s voice does not go unnoticed. Frank lets out a self-deprecating little chuckle and replies, genuine as he rarely allows himself to be, “Yeah, I think I had enough space for the day. You can go back to smothering me with your oppressive manpain anytime.” He can’t even remember why he thought he needed space in the first place. Just talking to Adam is so nice, for a second Frank allows himself to wish he could have Adam around all the time. “Listen, I’m… sorry.”

When Adam replies, it’s soft. Comforting. “It’s fine. We’ll figure it out.”

It’s embarrassing how needy Frank suddenly feels.

When Adam says, “I’ll let you sleep now,” Frank immediately replies with, “I’m not that tired.”

Adam chuckles. “Sleep, Francis. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he says. Frank tries to pull himself together.

“Not _that_ soon, though. I do need to sleep,” he says. “Thanks, though.”

“Don’t mention it.” Adam’s voice is slow. Sleepy. Like he’s on the verge of nodding off. The thought of falling asleep with Adam right there, still on their channel, is very tempting. He’ll blame it on the stress, later, the dark, almost empty office building he’s locked inside.

“Do you mind leaving our channel open? On the Infolink?” he asks. “I’ll be quiet, I just… I-”

“Sure,” Adam sounds almost like he’s already asleep. “Sleep tight, Frank.”

Frank breathes easily for what feels like the first time in a week and answers, “You too.”

-x-

Adam walks into Sarif Industries early on Friday morning and stops by the guards from the overnight security detail assigned to the building, asks if they have anything to report. One of them mentions Frank trying to leave in the middle of the night.

“He looked a little… agitated. Is everything ok?”

Adam scoffs. “That’s what I’m about to find out.”

Inside the tech lab, Frank is lying on his stomach on the couch wearing a grey t-shirt and dark jeans, his bare feet hanging off the arm of the couch. Adam takes one look at him and decides to let him sleep a little longer. Whatever is waiting for them today can wait a bit more. At least until Adam finds some coffee. He left home in such a hurry he didn’t even have anything to eats, so he gets himself some energy bars from the vending machines and pours himself a cup of coffee. A second later, he gives in and pours a second cup for Frank. The hacker will definitely need it.

Adam’s heading back to the tech lab to wake him up when he hears a familiar voice.

“Just the man I was looking for,” David Sarif says, cheerful like it’s not unreasonably early. Adam just stands there as Sarif approaches him and takes Frank’s coffee cup from his hand. The CEO takes a sip and, making a face, comments, “It needs sugar.”

Adam doesn’t answer. Doesn’t have the chance. Sarif starts asking about the attack from the previous night, if Frank’s figured out who’s behind it.

“I’ll ask him as soon as he wakes up,” Adam tells him. Sarif raises an eyebrow.

“He’s still asleep?”

Adam frowns. “Well, he _was_ up pretty late,” he offers. Sarif looks confused for a second and then grins like he just understood a joke.

Adam isn’t sure he likes it.

“Well, son, he has about…” Sarif looks at the watch on his wrist. “… fifteen minutes to wake up, otherwise you’ll miss him ‘cause we are off to Chicago. Don’t worry, I’ll brief you on the way there.”


	10. Chapter 10

Inside the tech lab, Frank is quite disoriented when he wakes up. Although he feels like he barely slept at all, it’s already day outside, bright sunlight bleeding into the building through the glass walls. That’s not what woke him up, though. What woke him up was the click of the lab door opening and the careful but heavy footsteps of his favorite coworker.

“Good, you’re awake,” Adam says, voice barely above a whisper. Frank groans as he sits up and instantly regrets the decision. Yeah, Adam’s couch is definitely better than this one.

“You could say that,” Frank rasps out. He glances at Adam and then nods towards the steaming cup in his hands with a quirked eyebrow. “Is that for me?”

Adam chuckles quietly and hands the cup over with a soft, “Not really, but you’re welcome to have it. I was bringing you another one, but Sarif took it.”

“Typical.” Frank shakes his head. He drinks his coffee, happy not to have to go outside for caffeine. He looks back up at Adam after he finishes, catches Adam staring at him, has hide the smile pulling at the corner of his lips with a casual, “Did you talk to him? To Sarif?”

“Yeah.” Adam nods. “Yeah, we’re leaving soon. I had to come wake you up. We need you to run comms or something.”

Frank frowns. He stands up, leaving his empty cup on the couch. “Leaving? I haven’t heard anything.”

Adam shrugs. “Neither had I. Must be last minute.” He takes a step closer, unshielded eyes scanning the hacker’s face as if looking for something. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” Frank concedes. “Thanks for the coffee, by the way. I really needed it.”

“Anytime,” Adam replies. He’s just standing there, calm and deceitfully harmless, but Frank can almost hear the gears turning in his head.

Something’s not right.

“Where are you going?” Frank asks.

“Chicago.”

“Shit, really?” Frank makes a face. “What’s in Chicago?”

A group of their coworkers walks in front of the lab door, their voices and footsteps a distant rumble. Adam looks away for a second, mutters, “Fuck if I know,” and then their eyes meet again and Frank can’t look away. Chicago?

What the fuck is going on?

Frank really needs to get on the computer and get the brief. It’s not the first time Adam is pulled into the field suddenly like this. It’s unfamiliar, though, because it is so _good_ to see Adam after last night Frank just doesn’t want him to go just yet.

“Listen,” Frank says. He reaches for Adam’s arm as he says it — just because he wants to, no real plan in mind. “Just…” he tries again, but the words go nowhere, his throat tight.

Although he doesn’t pull away from Frank’s touch, Adam doesn’t come any closer, either. He has this carefully blank expression on his face, his eyes very open.

Quietly, Adam asks, “What is it?”

And Frank has no answer to that, so he closes the distance between them and kisses Adam. He makes sure to do it slowly, though, to let Adam _see_ it coming. Frank’s mouth is sleep sour, bitter from the coffee and he kisses Adam softly, lovingly, both hands on Adam’s jaw and his heart beating quickly like it’s their first kiss all over again.

Adam tentatively begins to kiss Frank back, but the instant he tries to deepen the kiss, Frank pulls away.

“I have to brush my teeth,” the hacker explains. Adam steps back with a disbelieving huff.

“Jesus Christ, Pritchard.” He rubs fingertips over his lower lip, the small grin on his face like sunlight bleeding through heavy clouds. Oh, Frank could kiss him again. “You’re gonna give me emotional whiplash.”

Frank chuckles at that, blushing despite himself. He feels so much like a middle-school kid with a crush, all of a sudden. “I’ll try not to,” he lamely offers.

Adam’s eye narrow. There’s a determined glint them as he takes a step closer, crowding up against Frank and forcing the hacker to look up. It feels a lot like the beginning of a good day.

Please, god, let them have a good day.

“Promise?” Adam asks, carefully hopeful.

Frank nods, heart fluttering inside his chest. Right outside the lab, there’s a janitor cleaning the hallway. Frank tells Adam just that, but still lets Adam kiss him again.

-x-

“Pritchard, are you there?”

It’s a lot later when Adam reaches Frank through his Infolink. Even though Frank was expecting it, he almost jumps off his chair when he gets the transmission.

Frank hums an acknowledgement, not trusting his own voice.

“We’re almost there,” Adam tells him.

“Good,” Frank replies.

It’s not, though. Good. Actually, it kind of _sucks_ that they’re almost there, already.

Switching between windows to check on Adam’s stats, Frank asks, “Jensen, have you been briefed?”

“Yeah.” Adam sounds distracted. “Can you… tell me anything else?”

Frank smirks. He certainly can.

“Get inside. We’ll talk, then,” Frank replies.

He keeps an eye on Adam’s location as he waits for him to break into the building. Adam’s vitals barely spike while he sneaks inside. He does take longer than Frank expected him to, though, since he decided to go in through the vents instead of the fire escape, as Frank suggested.

Frank sometimes wonders if he does it just to spite him.

“I swear it’s like you _enjoy_ suffering. Don’t you get claustrophobic?” Frank sneers as soon as he’s sure Adam’s completely out of sight. When Adam doesn’t reply, he tries again. “Adam?” Nothing. “Adam, are you there?”

“-chard?” comes Adam’s voice after a few seconds. No static or interference, just absolute silence between the fragments of speech that come through. “-re failing.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Frank replies. That’s not good.

Such an awesome moment for their link to fail, as if Frank hasn’t had enough of not being able to reach Adam already. At least Adam’s location is still clear as day, his vitals stable.

A few endless minutes tick by.

“Frank, are you there?”

“Yeah. Where else would I be?” Frank retorts before he can think better of it. Adam pays him no mind.

“It isn’t the metal of the vents. I thought-” he starts and it takes Frank a second to understand that he’s not hesitating, but floating in and out of reach. “But there’s something jamming-”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re breaking quite up a bit. Let’s actually do something about it, how ‘bout that,” Frank replies. He’s losing his patience here. The worst part of relying so heavily on technology is that it tends to, more often than not, let you down. “I do need to talk to you, though, so try and find somewhere you can hear me clearly. I’ll… I’ll read the ingredients on this energy bar while you go, ok? Let me know when you’re able to hear me without any breaks.”

Frank keeps talking. He’s pretty sure he messes up the pronunciation of more than half the energy bar ingredients and he’s better off not knowing exactly what most of them are. It works, though. Eventually Adam tells him, “Alright, Francis. I can hear you clearly now.”

Frank tries to ignore how amused he sounds. He takes a deep breath. They don’t have much time.

“Okay, so. Listen. Those files you’re looking for? They’re on a server that belongs to Pollock. Remember Pollock? The cellphone guy? So, I’ve been doing some digging.” Frank makes a face. “That’s not on the brief, by the way. Pollock works for the Allendes. Or worked. I’m not one hundred percent sure on the exact timeline yet, but something smells fishy. I don’t know what’s going over there, but-”

Adam lets out a low curse and leans against the restroom window. It’s the only place he’s been able to hear Frank clearly since he entered the building. Frank’s voice fades out again.

“Frank?” Adam whispers. The door to the restroom is secured, the building mostly empty other than the security staff lazily patrolling the floors. Still, he doesn’t want to risk attracting unwanted attention. “Frank, are you there?”

“-sider aborting the mission.” Frank’s words comes through. Broken, clipped. “It mi- -safer.”

“Goddamnit, Frank. I’m already halfway there,” Adam groans in frustration. He’s not sure Frank can even hear him, though. He hopes he can, but hope is the best he can do at the moment. There’s no way he’s backing off now. “I’m going in. It’s gonna be fine. We’ll talk when I’m back, yeah? I’ll see you later.”

The deeper he goes into the building, though, the harder it will be for Frank to break through whatever’s jamming their channel, he knows.

“Well,” Adam whispers, pretty sure he’s talking to no one. “Here goes nothing. Jensen out.”

-x-

Adam’s been silent for almost an hour before Frank decides to do something more useful with his time. He contacts Sarif, first. Then Malik. Frank’s never been particularly shy about speaking his mind, but he’s unusually harsh. He knows Jensen doesn’t have any sort of regard for his personal integrity, Frank tells them, but he expected better from them.

It’s like it’s the middle of the night all over again and Frank hates every second he has to wait even though he’s not alone in the building anymore. During the next hour or so, Adam’s vitals spike here and there, but never get anywhere alarming. His location barely changes.

Pritchard is almost chewing a hole through his lower lip when Malik tells him she has eyes on them.

“_Them_?” Frank asks.

The brief didn’t mention anyone — no rescue or capture. Just servers to be accessed, files to be obtained.

“Yeah,” Malik replies. She’s angry, and rightfully so. Frank wasn’t particularly nice when he talked to her earlier. “Adam got Pollock.”

Frank sighs, leaning back against his chair. He’s getting too old for this shit.

“Ping me when you’re back,” he tells her, tired beyond niceties. “Pritchard out.”

-x-

There’s blood on Adam’s coat, seeping from his arm. From the blade he has there, Frank considers. His reasoning doesn’t do much to quench the panic rising inside his chest, though. There are police officers around them, in the helipad. Pollock is taken into custody and Frank barely spares him a thought. It’s like can’t see anything beyond Adam.

“It’s not mine,” Adam tells him. Like he can read Frank’s thoughts. “It’s not my blood.”

Sarif is talking on the phone next to them, something about a meeting. PR. About getting their story straight.

Frank scoffs and, wordlessly, drags Adam away with a hand on his elbow. He pulls them into the first door they find, a men’s restroom near the cafeteria. He’s about to tell Adam precisely how stupid he thinks he is when a vaguely familiar young men joins them inside the restroom. He takes one look at Frank’s furious gaze, turns his back and promptly walks back out.

One of the interns, Frank thinks. He can never keep track of them.

“Well, now I know who’s been calling you,” Adam tells Frank.

It takes Frank a second to understand what Adam’s talking about. When he does, however, oh, he’s pissed.

“_That_ asshole?”

Frank can’t fucking believe it. When Adam nods in confirmation, Frank lets out an outraged curse.

“They’ve been after us for a while,” Adam explains. He looks tired, sounds just as angry as Frank. “It wasn’t really personal, I think.”

Through gritted teeth, Frank mutters, “It felt pretty personal.” Those fucking calls. Sometimes three, four times a day, early in the morning, in the middle of the night — and then absolute silence for over a week. It’s almost hard to believe he won’t have to lose sleep over it anymore. That no one will jump him when he’s leaving work or come into his apartment when he least expects it. “It’s over, then?”

Adam nods. Frank takes a step closer to him, arms still crossed.

“My apartment is safe, then?” The idea sounds so absurd, after such a long time worrying about his personal safety. “God, I miss my bed. No offense. Your couch is fine, but… my _bed_.”

Adam chuckles. “You look tired. You should take the rest of the day off. Go home. Get some actual sleep.”

Warmth settles over Frank like a blanket at the barely concealed affection in Adam’s words. Frank offers him a weak smile and says, “That’s actually a good idea. I haven’t even eaten anything, yet.”

Frank is still smiling when he takes another step towards Adam. He’s very much looking forward to going home early, to finally using his own shower, cooking in his own kitchen. Some things are more urgent, though.

Nodding towards one of the empty stalls next to them, Frank tells Adam, “Get in.”


	11. Chapter 11

When Adam thought of Pritchard, before, he had this image of a more old-fashioned and uptight person — not into PDA or sneaking around, all vanilla sex and unclear, mixed signals. And Adam had been pretty much okay with it, more than willing to slowly break Frank out of his shell if possible, but happy to take whatever he could get.

That’s why when Frank leads them into the restroom stall farthest away from the door and proceeds to kiss him so long and so hard Adam’s lips feel raw, Adam is more than a bit surprised.

“Jesus, Frank,” he hisses when Frank bites his lower lip and pulls on it until it stings — it was supposed to be a reprimand, but he manages to sound only desperately turned-on. And Adam would have been embarrassed at how affected he is after no more than a kiss — a very good one, yes, but he barely recognizes his own voice — but the filthy little smirk that twists Frank’s lips is so worth it.

“Is that a complaint, Jensen?” Frank retorts.

Frank is so done denying himself this. He doesn’t even give Adam time to answer, his clever fingers trailing lightly over Adam’s face and neck to angle them into another kiss, messy and almost angry, too much tongue and not enough room to breathe. Adam feels like he’s drowning, but leans into every touch, drinks every bite and shudders at the hot slick slide of Frank’s tongue against his own, dizzy over the taste of Frank’s lips. _This_, Adam thinks. He’s not sure how he managed to convince himself he’d be able to just go on without ever having this again.

Minutes stretch. When Frank presses a thigh forward between Adam’s legs, Adam inhales sharply, unable resist pushing against it once, twice. When, instead of pulling back, Frank presses a bit harder, Adam breaks away from his lips.

“If you keep doing that…” His warning sounds more like a plea.

“Doing what?” Frank feigns innocence as he shifts his hips to press the hard heat of his cock right against Adam’s, eyes dark and knowing straying to Adam’s lips, to his gear and clothes as if trying to measure just how much trouble it would be to get them off.

A part of Adam is thinking, ‘_Here_? Seriously?’, but he’s okay with letting Frank get away with his terrible, terrible timing as long as the hacker keeps kissing him and circling his hips just like that, pressing into Adam’s own stuttering thrusts, push and pull like the tide. Fuck, they’ve barely got a rhythm going and Adam can already feel his underwear sticking to his skin where he’s leaking precome.

In the back of his mind, he knows there’s no way they’ll be able to stop now and he knows just how uncomfortable the rest of his day will be if they keep going at it like this.

He’s also starving for it.

Frank grabs and squeezes Adam’s ass, pulling them into a slow and dirty grind, more chasing pleasure than teasing now, and Adam moans against his mouth, low and deep, his erection pulsing where it’s trapped between their bodies. Frank is the one to break the kiss this time, pressing his forehead against Adam’s for a moment, eyelids at half-mast.

Adam freezes. For a second he has the impression that Frank is angry or something. He can’t be, though, because the next moment he’s sinking to his knees, all haste and no grace in his movements. Not that Adam minds as he turns his gaze towards the ceiling, not trusting himself with the sight of Frank kneeling at his feet, fumbling his pants open to expose the evidence of his arousal to the cold air inside the restroom.

He can’t bear not to look for long, though.

“Shit, Frank,” Adam breathes when he catches the darkness of Frank’s gaze. He sounds like he’s just been punched. The hacker looks so deliciously debauched, parted lips bruised pink, breath tickling the wetness on the tip of Adam’s cock as he exhales. He takes Adam’s length in an experimental grasp, fingers sliding up and down a few times as if to get a feel of him, his weight and heat, fingertips teasing the slick cockhead, spreading fluid and making Adam buck into his fist with a hiss. Then Frank leans in, eyes sliding closed as his lips slide over the head, tongue curling against velvet-smooth flesh, hot and wet and absolutely perfect. “Ah, that’s… Hm,” Adam manages before choking on a moan that is way too loud for their _way_ too public setting, deep and throaty. Frank seems to approve of it, though, his enthusiasm spiking as he tries to take Adam in deeper.

The hacker is not particularly skilled or refined. He can’t take much of Adam’s length without choking, but he’s just- God, he’s a sight to behold. When he nudges Adam’s thigh, Adam takes the hint to start pumping his cock in and out of Frank’s mouth — slowly at first, until he’s gauged what Frank’s limits are. After a minute or so, Frank lets go and relaxes into the motions, eyes sliding almost closed as Adam cradles the back of his head — not really pushing him down, just holding on — and lets himself take pleasure in fucking Frank’s mouth.

It would be so easy to just let go, let himself fall over the edge he’s balancing on, but then Frank pulls away to breathe, mouth sliding messily over Adam’s balls as he inhales deeply time and again. His mouth is so hot Adam can’t help but wrap fingers around himself. He meant to stave off his climax a bit, but he’s so slick from Frank’s saliva, his fingers sliding easily over his member. So close.

Something flickers behind Frank’s eyes as he tracks the motions of Adam’s hand. Adam doesn’t understand it immediately, but when it sinks in, the heat in his center reaches a boiling point.

Adam doesn’t need to ask. He knows what Frank wants with the same bone-deep certainty with which he knows Frank when Frank is just about to fall asleep and with which he can tell when Frank hasn’t had coffee or eaten in a while.

When Adam angles his cock down, aiming it at Frank’s face, Frank’s eyes go dark and his lips part involuntarily as if in expectation.

“Oh,” Adam manages in wonder, in realization, as he strokes himself a bit faster, a bit harder. When their eyes meet, Frank nods.

“Yeah,” he beckons. “Come on. Let go.”

It’s all Adam needs to go off like a bomb, cursing and grunting like he’s in pain — which is almost true, it’s so good it aches a bit, pleasure burning so bright. The first spurt hits Frank’s tongue and Frank promptly chases the rest of it down, taking Adam’s length as far into his mouth as he can and swallowing greedily. Adam gasps for breath, hips pumping wildly. God, he’s all but humping Frank’s face now, those come smeared lips closed sloppily around him, moving _with_ him. Frank doesn’t pull away until Adam pushes him back, overstimulated.

Frank leans back on his heels, looking up at Adam as if in a daze. There’s a speck of white on his lips, another one on his chin, and Adam wants to know what Frank’s face looks like completely splattered with his come, his neck, his hair… _fuck_, Adam wants to make such a mess out of him. Groaning with renewed urgency, he pulls the hacker up to his feet and pushes him against the opposite wall to kiss his own taste off those lips.

Frank moans, hands running over Adam’s shoulders, his neck, his face as they kiss long and deeply. He arches against Adam, hard weight of his length an insistent heat against Adam’s thigh, begging for friction Adam more than willingly provides. Adam likes him like this. Aroused, smelling and, god, _tasting_ like sex, his teeth sharp and careless against Adam’s tongue, begging for Adam to bite him back.

Maybe Adam likes it a _bit_ too much, the way Frank responds when he gets a little rougher, when he pulls Frank’s hair just a tad too hard — when trails hard, biting kisses along Frank’s jaw and sucks a dark, possessive bruise on the side of Frank’s throat. Frank shudders and gasps so helplessly, obviously enjoying the treatment more than he thinks he should. Adam is sure Frank could come just like this, rutting against the hard material of his thigh.

He could, but Adam wants so much more. He wants to take Frank apart, watch him come undone, so he casually fits a hand between their bodies, presses it between Frank’s legs with a quiet, “Now, we can’t have you walking out of here like this, can we?”

Fuck, Adam sounds like _porn_. Frank shudders in response and Adam raises an eyebrow.

Interesting.

“You plan on doing something about it?” Frank snaps back, but it’s not very effective. His voice is wrecked, sandpaper hoarse. Because Adam just came down his throat, Adam realizes.

Adam replies by shoving a hand down Frank’s pants, fingers wrapping easily around the velvety heat of Frank’s cock. Frank seems to enjoy the touch of his augmented flesh if the quiet and shocked, “Oh, god,” he lets out is anything to go by.

Adam smirks, leaning in, lips brushing the dark flush on Frank’s cheek.

“Might not need to do much, it seems,” Adam teases. Frank snorts, but he’s so wet and slippery in Adam’s grasp, so tightly wound up Adam can’t help himself, needs to see him break. It’s a gamble Adam hopes will pay off, he’s relying on what he can read from Frank when he brushes his lips against the shell of Frank’s ear and murmurs, “God, you have any idea what you look like? The things I want to do to you?”

The noise Frank lets out at that can only be described as a whimper. Adam tries not to look as cocky as he usually would when he’s _this_ right.

“Tell me,” Frank whispers. Not denying himself, not playing around anymore, a request Adam aches to fulfil, fingers tightening a bit around Frank’s length, moving with clear purpose now. Done teasing, Adam wants to make him come.

“I want to get you to my office, lock the door. Bend you over the desk. Get you out of those clothes, I wanna…” Frank is completely gone, weightless between the wall behind him and Adam’s body, Adam’s slick, sure grip on his cock, pushing him so perilously close to the brink. Adam’s voice rasps with danger and Frank almost doesn’t know if he’s being promised heaven or being threatened with it. It shouldn’t be a surprise, how good it feels. Frank knew it would be like this, has known for ages, which is precisely why- “Wanna spread you on it like a feast and get my mouth on every inch of you, _god_. You drive me fucking crazy,” Adam whispers, filthy sweet and Frank wants it. Wants all of it.

“Jesus Christ, Adam…” Frank closes his eyes. Can’t bear to look at Adam’s self-satisfied grin. “Keep talking.”

“You like it, huh,” Adam doesn’t sound smug, though. Aroused, yeah. A bit surprised, maybe. Frank meets his eyes. Heat floods his chest at everything he sees in Adam’s gaze, at the weight of being the sole focus of Adam’s attention like this. “Knew you had a thing for my voice.”

Frank almost rolls his eyes, but then Adam presses a thumb against his glans and Frank keens. _So close_.

Wet heat against his earlobe as Adam takes it between his lips and sucks, softly at first, then between his teeth before mouthing, “I want you take you home. Right now. Get you on the bed, eat you out until you’re ready for my cock. God, I wanna fuck you. I need to-”

Frank gasps, wants to say, _yeah, great idea, let’s go_, but what comes out is, “Ah - I’m close. Just…” He grabs Adam by the hair, pulls him into a desperate kiss as his climax hits him long and hard. He licks against Adam’s tongue and Adam strokes him through the electric waves as he spurts warm and thick into Adam’s grasp again and again. Such a mess, it’s all he can think afterwards, heartbeat like thunder inside his chest — he’s not even sure what exactly he’s referring to, though.

Adam presses one last, lingering kiss against the corner of Frank’s lips and waits until Frank has stopped twitching in his arms to pull his hand away.

Frank blinks slowly at the contentment in Adam’s gaze and lets out a disbelieving snort. Goddamnit, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t come this hard in over a decade. Adam reaches down to try and pull his pants up, but he has semen all over his right hand. Frank takes pity on him, tucks his half-hard cock back into his underwear and zips him up. He can’t help but linger a bit, though, tracing the outline of Adam’s member through the layers fabric.

Adam groans, “Don’t get me started again, Francis, or we’ll never get out of here. Pretty soon people will wonder why we never made it to debriefing and come looking.”

Frank snorts again, but doesn’t reply. He cleans himself up with some toilet paper before handing Adam some as well. God, he’s exhausted.

He unlocks the door and pulls it open. Adam follows him out into the bathroom. Side by side, the gaze at themselves in the mirror above the sinks, at each other, trying to get their hair, their clothes in order. There’s a glint in their eyes, however, a blush on their cheeks that no amount of water splashed on their faces will get off.

Frank asks, “Debriefing, you say?”

In the mirror, Adam nods. Frank watches as Adam steps closer, wrapping both arms around his waist and pulling Frank against his front. Frank relaxes into the embrace for a second, feeling better than he has any right to.

“I need to take a year-long nap,” Frank laments.

“You should. You look like shit,” Adam deadpans, but it carries no heat when he’s nuzzling into Frank’s neck, lips finding the angry-red hickey he made a few minutes earlier. Frank suppresses a shiver, half-heartedly pushing him away. Adam steps back, reaching up as if to get his shades over his eyes, but pauses. “Seriously, though, if you want to take off, I’ll cover for you.”

Frank grins. He could kiss him again. So he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude, this story is almost an year old. Yay?  
Maybe I should hurry up and finish it, right?  
RIGHT?  
But then just when I was about done with this chapter I had the brilliant idea of reading the first chapter and I was, like, wtf, this is... not very good.  
So I rewrote it.  
Nothing really changed, it's just a bit... better.  
I hope.
> 
> Anyway, hope this is decent (as decent as a 2,5k words sex scene can be heh)  
love you all, hope you're all safe and sound!  
<3


	12. Chapter 12

Adam comes in late for the debriefing and, when someone asks where Pritchard is, he offers a lame, “Oh, Frank had a thing, I think.” No one else seems to notice how forcibly nonchalant he is being except for Malik, whose lips twitch in amusement.

Halfway through the debriefing, Pritchard sends Adam the address to his apartment, telling him to come over.

_Or whatever_, he adds.

If Adam wants to.

Adam has to fight off the stupidest of grins, then, because _that_ would be weird, and tries to leave as soon as the meeting is over, but Malik blocks his way out with a delighted, “So, it’s _not_ what I’m thinking?”

It takes Adam a second to recall the conversation they had a while back, in the helipad. He can feel his whole face heat up, but doesn’t bother trying to deny it.

“It might be… _exactly_ what you’re thinking.”

Speaking about this _thing_ he and Pritchard have started aloud for the first time gives Adam a head-rush of sorts. The teasing expression on Malik’s face softens a bit.

“Go on, then. You certainly seem to be in a rush,” she jokes, stepping aside and throwing a wink his way. “I do expect to hear _all_ the details later, though.”

Adam is almost certain she’s not serious about that last part, but the flush on his face darkens a bit further nevertheless. He considers stopping by his own place to wash the day — the week — off his weary, metal-infused bones before heading over to Frank’s. He decides against it, though, because Malik was right, you see.

He _is_ in a rush.

-x-

As the sun sets behind the concrete buildings that make up the skyline of Detroit, the usual energy of a Friday night just getting started settles in, buzzing and almost electric. Adam is usually immune to it, hasn’t really felt this way in a very long time, but his body is thrumming with anticipation now. It’s been less than four hours since he and Frank were together and he already _craves_ the hacker’s presence, his mind swimming with different possibilities for the days to come, none of which include him or Frank seeing the light of day this weekend.

Frank lives in a third-floor apartment in one of the nicer buildings in a not-very-nice part of town. He buzzes Adam in when he arrives, but Adam still knocks when he reaches his door.

“Come in. It’s unlocked,” Frank calls out.

As soon as he steps through the door, Adam grimaces, cupping a hand over his mouth and nose. This is _not_ what he expected.

“What’s that smell?” he asks in a muffled voice, venturing around the corner and into Frank’s kitchen only to find the hacker crouched in front of his refrigerator with a black plastic bag in one hand and a couple more tied closed on the flood. Whatever is in them smells vile.

Frank shoots Adam an unimpressed look.

“That, Jensen, is the scent of an abandoned fridge filled with… why the fuck did I order sushi? This always happens…” He tosses a couple of sad-looking slices of what Adam _thinks_ is salmon sashimi into the bag before leaving it on the floor and standing up to make his way towards his guest. When he’s within Adam’s reach, he offers a sheepish, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Adam softly replies, arms circling the hacker’s waist seemingly of their own accord. Frank leans into his embrace, his own arms going around Adam’s shoulders as their lips meet softly as if this is something they do every day, the kiss tender, loving and patient.

“Do you need a hand?” Adam asks, hands roaming over Frank’s back, pressing into the curve of his spine. Frank’s wearing jeans and a faded t-shirt, now, way more comfortable than his work clothes, but Adam really wants to get them off, sooner rather than later.

“There are probably better ways of spending a Friday night,” Frank considers, as if able to read Adam’s mind. As Adam nuzzles into Frank’s neck, though, he can’t think of a single one.

“There are probably worse ones as well,” Adam offers. “I think your refrigerator might be a lost cause, though.”

Frank snickers at that. “Ah, nothing dousing it in alcohol won’t fix.” He gazes into Adam’s eyes for a second, face unreadable, and then nods at the bags he left by the fridge. “I should take those out, though.”

Instead of letting go of him, Adam tightens his hold on Frank’s middle, enjoying the warmth of the hacker’s body against his. “Do you want company?”

But Frank can see right through him, apparently, because he replies with an amused, “So that we can yelled at for getting handsy in public? No, thank you. I got it.”

“Hey, if I recall correctly, you were the one to drag me to the men’s room earlier to have your wicked way with me,” Adam playfully defends himself.

“Funny thing, I don’t remember hearing any complaints from you,” Frank replies with a grin that makes Adam warm all over. With that, the hacker steps away to collect the trash bags. “Go on. Make yourself at home. The bedroom should be safe enough to breathe in. I’m not sure how presentable it is, though…”

Adam does just that, taking a moment to appreciate the kind of environment Frank Pritchard calls home — it’s definitely less chaotic than the tech lab, decorated in a minimalistic way. There are not many signs of it having been lived in recently, though.

Adam leaves his boots by the front door and then gets his gear off, leaves it alongside his coat on top of Frank’s dresser inside the bedroom. Then he hears the front door open and close and wanders back, barefoot now, into the living room, where he finds Frank fiddling with what looks like an incense stick and a lighter.

Frank blushes a bit under Adam’s inquiring look.

“My neighbor… she didn’t have febreze,” he explains and then blows the flame that lit up the incense stick, surrounding them in the unsettling scent of rotting food and sandalwood. Frank balances the stick on the counter that separates his kitchen from the living room space and continues, “Actually, I’m pretty sure she had febreze... she said these would create a more _romantic_ atmosphere, though.” He nods towards the couple of scented candles he left on the counter. Adam picks one up to investigate, bringing it up to his nose.

It smells like ice cream.

“And why would your neighbor want to help you create a… hm… _romantic_ atmosphere, I wonder.”

“Well, she asked if I needed help, but I said I had… company.” He takes the candle from Adam's hands and lights it up. Adam can’t stop grinning. “Oh, stop teasing me, will you? This isn’t funny.”

Frank is terribly incorrect about that, though. Adam feigns innocence.

“Teasing you? Me? If anything, I’m offended you and your neighbor would think a couple of candles would be all it took. I’m not that easy, you know.” Adam waits until Frank is done with the candles before backing the hacker up against the counter, pressing up against him from chest to thighs with a quiet, “I was raised better than that, I’ll have you know.”

Frank smirks, smug, a wandering hand reaching around Adam to cup his ass. “A bit late to be playing coy, Jensen. As far as I know, you’re pretty much a sure thing, aren’t you?”

That line alone gets Frank fucked on the couch, clutching the armrest for dear life while Adam pounds him like it’s an Olympic sport at an angle that makes it purposefully impossible for him to reach for his own cock but oh, so easy to come on the relentless push of Adam’s dick alone. Afterwards, they wash the sweat and fluids off their bodies and order food and beer. They sit on the bedroom floor to eat and drink and talk with their backs against the side of Frank’s bed. Adam gives Frank a summary of the meeting he skipped, explains how the nightmare his life recently became was, in the end, nothing but collateral damage.

“I fucking hate this job,” Frank bitterly admits at some point. “I used to be able to tell myself that this was a worthy cause, you know, but corporate interest always speaks way louder than… human decency.”

Adam nods solemnly. “I see your point. I do,” he offers. “_Trust_ me, I do. It’s just…”

He still has much to see through, the whole incident that led to his augmentations the starting point of something he has no way of telling where is going to end.

The silence goes on for a bit too long and then Frank offers, “Yeah, I know.”

Until this is really over, neither of them will be able to step away. The kiss Adam presses into the soft curve of Frank’s mouth feels so much bigger than everything else, though — so much more worth fighting for.

-x-

The first weekend they spend together as a couple, they end up using words so big and certain they fuel their every breath — romance blossoming unrelentingly in soil otherwise thought uncultivable. Frank says he never thought, Adam admits he never dared hope, and people notice.

Of course they do.

Faster than they are able to keep track, three weeks of luminous bliss pass them by, not a single speck of darkness in the glowing landscape of their days, until one cloudy Thursday, right before lunch, Malik asks Adam, “Do you know if Sarif will need the chopper to go to the funeral?”

It’s said so casually, like she’s asking him to pass the sugar, and Adam doesn’t know. What funeral?

“The girl from the hospital,” Malik tells him and his blood runs cold. “She passed away last night. I thought you knew?”

“No, I… I haven’t heard.” Malik looks like she’s about to say something, but he’s already walking away, only one thing on his mind: Frank. “I have to go,” he says, unsure if she hears him.

Adam finds Frank smoking on his usual fire escape, staring at the alleyway underneath with so much anger and hurt in his eyes Adam has to fight the urge to pull him away from the edge. He’s not crying, but Adam pulls him into a tight embrace and holds him all the same.

For the longest time, neither of them say a word, and then Adam pings Sarif’s Infolink. He doesn’t let go of Frank as he speaks.

“David, listen. Preston is on duty, if you need to be escorted anywhere. I’m taking a half day, today.” Frank relaxes minutely as Adam goes on. “Sir, I’m afraid this isn’t open to negotiation. Our security staff has your back and I’m available if anything happens, but I won’t stay.” Adam pauses before adding, “And neither will Frank.”

Frank lets out a shuddering breath as Adam says his goodbyes.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Adam mouths against the side of Frank’s head. “I need a drink.”

They stop by Adam’s office and then the tech lab to gather their things and then leave together, paying no mind to the eyes that take notice of the comforting hand Adam has on Frank’s shoulder as they descend the escalator.

They go straight to Adam’s apartment. Without even talking about it, they lock the door behind them and toe their shoes and boots off. Frank is eerily quiet when he pushes against Adam and kisses him hard and deep. Adam doesn’t actively try to slow them down, but the desperation in their kiss catches and drags as they make their way to the bed, seeking comfort in each other’s bodies. At some point, Frank spaces out, staring at a spot on the ceiling above them. Before Adam can ask him what’s wrong, Frank lets out a strangled, “I just want to not feel this.” When Adam doesn’t respond, he elaborates, “This… pain.”

“So, you’re just using me,” Adam teases him, the heat between their bodies, now so familiar, enough to make his entire body curl with raw need. Frank doesn’t laugh, but some tension seeps off his muscles.

Surrender.

“Well, yeah. I also might be ridiculously in love with you.” It’s the first time he’s putting into words what Adam has been able to read on him for a while now and it wrenches the air right out of Adam’s lungs. “Deal with that however you see fit.”

“However, you say?” Adam raises an eyebrow, settling more comfortably between Frank’s legs. Adam just loves him so much, _how_ can he love someone this much? It shouldn’t be possible. He leans down, nose brushing Frank’s, and says, “I think I’m going to fuck you, does that seem a reasonable way of dealing with that?”

Adam doesn’t need a verbal confirmation of Frank’s enthusiasm for what he’s proposing, the way his gaze darkens and his breath quickens is more than enough. Adam reaches for the tube of lube they left near the bed a few days ago, makes quick work of getting his fingers slick enough to slide easily into the heat of Frank’s body. It took him a while to get comfortable doing this to Frank, using his fingers, his hands, like this — lots of reassurance from the hacker’s part that it did feel good, it felt _amazing_, having the tough material of Adam’s fingers stroking his insides, pressing and prodding and pulling breathless little noises from the his throat. Adam now knows how to make Frank come apart by strumming just the right rhythm against his prostate, teasing the rim of his hole and that tight ring of muscle open for his cock.

Despite how much Adam aches to be inside Frank, he likes to take his time, so it feels like he’s about to burst right out of his skin when he lines himself up, whispering, “Me too, Frank. I love you so much.”

Frank nods, tearful, as Adam slides inside. They gave up on condoms around the fifth time they slept together and Frank can’t get over the intimacy of having Adam like this. It burns a bit, it always does when they start like this, facing each other, but it’s also so worth it, being able to see the speechless bliss on Adam’s face as he loses himself inch by inch, control slipping even though he tries to keep an easy rhythm, tries not to hurt Frank. Adam’s lips part as these long, drown-out ah’s escape him, husky, breathless like he just can’t help it. Frank clutches at him, wants the rasp of his voice to move into the hollow of his ears and never leave.

“I love you,” Adam moans, hips rolling in waves, digging into all the right places, teeth bruising Frank’s collarbone. They hold each other tightly, gasping for breath, bodies crashing together over and over again, chasing each other’s pleasure. Adam eyes Frank as if he’s having a revelation, chiseled angles of his face shining with sweat under the mid-afternoon glow, his cheeks flushed from exertion. Adam repeats, “I fucking _love_ you,” and Frank, goddamn him, actually starts to believe.

“Come here,” Frank begs, pulling Adam into a kiss they can’t keep up. “I love you. Don’t stop, Adam, don’t… I _love_ you.”

Adam comes first, a whimper caught on the back of his throat, his orgasm torn from him as the reality of Frank’s words sink in. Frank allows the onslaught of Adam’s desire to wash his wounds, the warm spurts of Adam’s release pumped roughly and mindlessly into his body. Adam keeps on thrusting shallowly even after he doesn’t have anything else to give, those fingers… Oh, those fingers Frank adores so much wrapped around Frank’s length, just the right side of too tight, more or less pulling his climax out of him with each stroke as the hacker shudders and curses and feels at once like an animal and as divine as he’ll ever feel.

-x-

David Sarif is not happy when they officially disclose their relationship, but both Adam and Frank are way past the point of caring and they’re both too necessary for the success of this enterprise for the CEO to be able to do much about it, at least for the time being. They’re either both in or both out, Sarif knows.

They make no point of being discreet, after that. Every morning as they roll into work, they kiss, — usually inside the tech lab, because Frank is ridiculously punctual and Adam is… not. At the end of their shifts, when they meet after a whole day of trying not to think of why they’re doing the work they’re doing, they kiss and leave together. Sometimes to Adam’s, sometimes to Frank’s, sometimes for dinner and then to their own apartments alone — there’s no need to hoard each other’s time like the world is about to end, the boiling urge they started at coming down to a gentle simmer, hot enough to keep them warm without burning them out.

Sometimes it does boil over, though, as they share stolen kisses by Frank’s secret fire escape, lips bitter with smoke, because it’s way too good, too perfect, they don’t — _can’t_ — possibly deserve it, but can do little else but hold on and hope karma won’t eventually bite them in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand: it's over!  
I hope you've had as great of a journey as I did with this story! as I mentioned in the previous chapter, I am not super happy with how the previous chapters came out, so I am rewriting the life out of those (not really changing anything plot-wise, just making them... slightly better).
> 
> as usual, any feedback is greatly appreciated and I wish you all the best, my beloved readers <3  
stay safe, stay weird, love you all!

**Author's Note:**

> All feedback is greatly appreciated.


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